


Desensitized to feeling these emotions

by smoviescenes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Butt Plugs, Castiel is Clueless, Dean is a rockstar, Famous Dean, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Long-Distance Relationship, Longing, Minor Character Death, Multi, Phone Sex, Sex, Singer Dean, Top Castiel, wow i love the order of these tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-09-23 15:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 40,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9663164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoviescenes/pseuds/smoviescenes
Summary: Castiel has never before been grateful for his lack of common knowledge. However, when it is the reason he gets to know famous singer Dean Winchester, he realizes that ignorance might be one of the best things to ever happen to him.





	1. Queue, awkward queue

**Author's Note:**

> *Okay*, even I am starting to freak myself out a little bit, because seriously? Why can't I leave AO3 and try to socialize with the rest of the world?
> 
> Now, I am a bit tired and I hope there aren't too many mistakes in there, I've tried to read through it a few times to correct myself. This is my third (I just tried to spell "third" with an f - I'm way too tired to do this) Destiel fic, not counting the first one I posted on here because that's just embarrassing to say the least. Hopefully something about this story will stick to you and make you want to find out how it ends. If not, well... Who am I to judge?
> 
> The title of this fic comes from the song "Angel" by The Weeknd, I just fell in love with the lyrics even though the song hasn't grown on me just yet. I think I'll just let it play as I keep writing. 
> 
> Until the next chapter, my lovelies - enjoy!

Castiel has never liked people who cut in line. It’s rude, to say the least, and shows a level of disrespect that he will never be able to understand. 

Today, however, he is having what appears to be the worst day of his life. Working part time as a writer and part time doing various charity work, he usually doesn’t have a tight schedule. His laptop will forgive him if he is five minutes late, and so will Anna and Gabriel at the orphanage Seraph, that the three of them founded together. 

The one person who will _not_ tolerate him being late is the smartly dressed, balding man Zachariah from the government who only shows up once every six months to do an inspection of their facilities. It is, unfortunately, exactly six months since his last visit. And today, Castiel oversleeps and finds that his phone has stopped working, misses the bus to take him downtown, catches a taxi that costs him 80 bucks, gets stuck in rush hour and decides to run the last two blocks. He hasn’t had breakfast, which his stomach grudgingly reminds him of every two seconds, so when he runs past the Starbucks next to the orphanage he can’t resist going inside. 

And there’s a _line_. Four people in front of him, and only one young girl to help them. His watch shows him that Zachariah will be arriving in three minutes, and it would be ideal if Castiel could already be there by then. Gritting his teeth through a sharp exhale, Castiel walks past the four customers to the front of the line.

”Excuse me, I’m in a hurry and I need something to eat in less than two minutes,” he exclaims, both to the bewildered girl and the guy at the front of the line. The guy flashes a smile and waves at him to go ahead, clearly amused at the situation which Castiel just finds embarrassing. When he turns back to the girl, her expression is one of pure and utter shock. 

”Do you have _any_ idea what you just did?” she gasps, and now Castiel is getting a little annoyed. He had no idea that Starbucks had such a hard policy when it came to cutting in line. 

”Please, just get me a coffee and a bagel and I’ll be out of-”

” _Oh my god_. You don’t even know who he is!” 

”What?” Castiel exclaims, frowning at her because he’s beginning to think that maybe this is all a joke. 

”That’s- he’s- you just cut past _Dean Winchester,_ ” the girl says finally, as if that would clear up all the questions in Castiel’s mind. 

”Who?” 

The girl looks about ready to faint when a deep, honey-smooth voice chimes in. 

”Me,” Dean says, giving a little wave. Castiel’s mind only needs a split second to tell that he’s insanely handsome, but he forces the thought away. Right now, his priority is to get to his meeting on time. Dean is wearing a Yankees cap, sunglasses and a leather jacket. A baseball player then, maybe. 

”Sorry, I don’t watch a lot of sports. And sorry for cutting in line but now I _really_ am in a hurry, and-”

”It’s _Dean Winchester_. The _singer_ in _Archangels’ Revenge_. He’s a _legend_.”

”And I have no clue who he is, I don’t listen to music. Can you get me a cup of coffee or not?” Castiel urges, and the guy, _Dean_ , breaks out into a full body-laugh. 

”Wow, you truly are refreshing, I’ll give you that. What’s your name?” he says with a grin, and Castiel can’t do anything but tilt his head with a frown. 

”Castiel.”

”Castiel, huh.” He turns towards the girl behind the counter and gives her the widest and most charming smile Castiel has ever seen, squints his eyes and reads her nameplate. ”Tracy, is that correct?” She nods nervously and leans forwards a little. ”Tracy, would you mind filling a large to-go cup of caffeine for our friend Castiel here? And give him one of those cream cheese bagels as well, my treat.” When she doesn’t immediately act, Dean claps his hands together twice and says ”chop-chop,” which makes her jump a little and nearly run the short distance to the coffee machine. 

”That wasn’t necessary,” Castiel frowns, even though he’s grateful. 

”Sure it was, and you’re welcome. Here.” He grabs a pen from the other side of the counter and reaches for the napkin dispenser next to Castiel. When he gets closer, the smell of whiskey and leather rolls over Castiel, and it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever felt. ”This is my private number, why don’t you give me a call sometime if you want any help removing that stick out of your ass,” Dean smirks, and puts the napkin in Castiel’s front left pocket. Tracy returns, and Dean takes the coffee and the bagel and places them in Castiel’s hands. 

”See you around, Cas,” are his last words before he resumes his focus to Tracy and Castiel can’t do anything but walk out of there in shock. 

He casts a glance at his watch and curses under his breath as he learns that Zachariah will already be at the office. With the bagel halfway down his throat he runs the last few yards to the orphanage, and hopes to god that this day won’t get any worse. 

 

Unfortunately, it does. It gets a whole lot worse. Zachariah slaps them across the face three times with new laws regarding minimum room size for orphanages, meaning that they will have to rebuild half of the second floor, brutal criticism about their exercise plans, and a snarky comment on how Castiel ’needs to learn to prioritize the orphanage if he wants to keep it’. All in all, nothing out of the ordinary when it comes to Zachariah, but it still stings. Gabriel and Anna stare listlessly into thin air as Castiel strides back and forth.

”We’re doing everything we can. Why can’t he see that?” 

”He has to say _something_ , Cassie. Wouldn’t be good ol’ Zac if he didn’t,” Gabriel snorts, shaking himself out of the melancholy mind state that they are all stuck in. ”Right. Anna, you’re the one who knows how to talk to other adults. Will you find a contractor and make some plans for the second floor? We’ve been talking about making double rooms anyways, now’s as good a time as any. I’m gonna go help Alfie with lunch, hopefully spaghetti and meatballs will make these darn kids happy. Wish me luck!” he finishes with a sly grin, and strolls off towards the staircase. 

The Seraph orphanage consists of three floors: the ground floor with the kitchen and common rooms, and the first and second floors where bedrooms, showers and bathrooms can be find. Lodged in one of the empty bedrooms is the office, two wooden desks in the middle of the room and cabinets and shelves lining the walls. Since starting out seven years ago, they have gone from five children to twenty eight. The first five have all passed eighteen years, two are in college, two have decently-paid jobs and the fifth works in the kitchen - Alfie. Castiel loves the kids with all he’s got, which he needs to be reminded of sometimes. 

”Why _were_ you late this morning?” Anna asks innocently from behind the screen of her computer. Castiel considers telling her a lie, but then again, why should he? There’s no shame in what happened to him. 

”My phone broke so the alarm didn’t wake me, I had to take a cab and then run the last few blocks because of the traffic, I was hungry enough to stop by at Starbucks and managed to make a complete fool out of myself in front of some famous guy.”

”Ooh, you met a famous guy at Starbucks? Who?” Castiel rolls his eyes at Anna’s enthusiasm, and that out of all the things he had told her she stuck with the last part.

”He was called Dean Winchester? Singer in some-”

” _Oh my god_ you met _Dean Winchester_? For real?”

”What is it with this guy?! I’ve never heard of him,” Castiel mutters, just a little upset that he seems to be the only one in the world who doesn’t immediately recognize the name. 

”Right, I forgot that you have no knowledge whatsoever of celebrities and pop culture. The Archangels’ Revenge are huge right now, they just released a new album and their tour starts in three weeks. I tried to get tickets, but they were sold out in like, three minutes.”

”So does he live in Lawrence? Or why would he be here?”

”He grew up here, and his dad still lives here. His mom died when he was four years old, and-”

”Anna, why do you know these things?” 

She turns her gaze to the ground and actually looks a little flustered.

”I really, really like their music. Look them up, I think their new album has already sold something close to 500 000 copies. And they have millions of followers on Spotify and twitter.”

And Castiel has Dean Winchester’s private phone number in his pocket. _Why did Dean give it to him?_ The girl behind the counter would probably have killed for that number, and Dean just…gave it to Castiel. Who doesn’t even know who he is. 

 

The next few hours are spent doing administration, which basically means going through all the adoption requests (not that many, unfortunately), breaking up a fight between the two seventeen-year-olds Ruby and Meg, and once again explaining to ten-year-old Samandriel that his parents aren’t going to come pick him up. The poor boy has only been there for three days. 

Castiel’s shift ends at three pm, meaning that he will leave the orphanage at five pm. There is always someone who needs help, and even though Castiel has been told over and over again that he shouldn’t get too attached to the children, and that it’s best that he sticks to administration, he knows the reason he is doing this. And that means that spending time with the children is not something he can stop doing. 

”Uncle Cas,” a voice calls. Castiel is three steps away from the door, three steps away from going home, but he can’t leave. Not yet. 

”Krissy. How can I help?” 

The usually hard-headed and stubborn girl is looking nervous, enough to make Castiel tilt his head. 

”What’s wrong?”

”How do you talk to guys?” she blurts suddenly, and Castiel can see where this is going. Suddenly he wishes that he would have just left instead.

”You do realize that you are talking to one right now?”

”I know that, but I mean, you’re single, and you’re a guy. So- I don’t know, this is stupid. Stupid.” 

Castiel bends down a little to get closer to her, and when her expression shows that she’s really listening he says, ”Go talk to Anna. If you want relationship advice, ask a girl. Guys often have no idea what they are talking about.”

Krissy quirks her lips in a crooked smile and tries to hide the blush that’s creeping up on her cheeks. 

”Thanks, Uncle Cas. Have a good night.”

”You too,” he replies, and pulls her into a quick hug. 

One, two, three steps later, and he’s out the door. He walks the few blocks to the grocery store, telling himself that it counts as today’s exercise, and just as he reaches for a shopping cart he bumps into a guy that was clearly going for the same one. He loses his balance and would have fallen nose-first to the ground if the guy hadn’t caught him and pulled him back to his feet. 

”Shit, sorry about that,” the guy says, and as Castel looks up at him to apologize, he wants to sink through the ground. Out of all people in Lawrence that he could have bumped into, Dean Winchester is the one who is smiling at him. 

”Two times in one day? I’m starting to think that you are stalking me,” he grins. Castiel grabs a shopping cart angrily and looks up at the green eyes.

”I could say the same thing about you,” he snorts, and without another word he walks into the store. It’s not that Dean isn’t good looking, and Castiel would really, _really_ like to get to know him and find out what makes him laugh, but apparently he is a rockstar that everyone knows the name of, and Castiel is just-

Well, he is just Castiel Novak. Soon turning 33 and he still doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life. 

Angrily he starts to put items in the shopping cart without really knowing if he needs them, but right now he couldn’t care less. The anger that he feels is not directed towards Dean, of course not, but at his own self; why isn’t he the kind of person that insanely hot green-eyed rockstars could be attracted to? 

”Hey, wait up!” a voice calls, one that is already starting to become familiar. Castiel sort of wishes that it didn’t. 

”What?” he blurts, not knowing how to hide his frustration. Dean falters a little, but falls in step next to Castiel. 

”Seriously, dude, did I do something to piss you off? Did you get food poisoning from the bagel? What the hell is your problem?” 

His eyes look at Castiel in confusion, the little furrow in between his brows strangely endearing yet Castiel wishes that he’d never noticed it. 

”Why are you even talking to me?” he asks at last, feeling the doubt in himself mirrored in Dean’s expression. 

”I don’t know what to tell you, man, seeing you this morning I just-”  
”What?” Castiel asks again. His voice has lost its irritation, he can hear it. He wonders if Dean can too, because the guy seems to relax beside him. 

”I remembered what it was like to talk to someone without having them ask me for a selfie. Come on, dude, you made my day.”

”I made your day?” Despite what Gabriel (and on occasion, Anna) keeps telling him, Castiel is not completely clueless when it comes to human emotions. The children at the orphanage tend to like his quiet and odd ways, and just like with Krissy today, they have on more than one occasion come to him to ask for advice. Just as he could tell that Krissy needed to hear from a girl’s point of view, he can tell that Dean is asking him something without daring to utter the words needed to do it.

He’s asking for him to be a friend. 

”Yeah,” Dean says with a stubborn shrug, and if he’s blushing furiously, Castiel won’t comment on it.

”Okay.”

”Okay? That’s it?” Dean scoffs in amused confusion. All he gets from Castiel is a shrug and a tilted head. Apparently, it’s enough. 

”Okay then. Still got my number?” 

”Yes, of course,” Castiel replies. He can’t really see where this is going, but he wants it to continue. 

”Okay,” Dean says for the third time. ”I guess I’ll see you around then? Okay?” Castiel hides a smile as Dean nearly walks into a magazine stand, and how he immediately straightens up and clasps his hands together. ”Okay. Fuck, did I really just say that again? Okay. Um- yeah. Bye.” 

Without warning, he has left, and Castiel already misses his presence. Like that moment after a summer rain, when the skies clear up and the entire world just smells so _pure_ , that’s what Dean feels like. Like freshly fallen snow on christmas eve.

It only takes two minutes and three aisles before they bump into each other again. Castiel didn’t see it coming this time either, when Dean just slides up next to him and knocks their shopping carts together. 

”Fancy seeing you here!” he exclaims in mock surprise, and Castiel just can’t stop the laugh that escapes. Dean’s smile is warm and sunny and by god, Castiel never wants to tear his eyes off it. 

”Okay, this time I’m really leaving. Have a good one, Cas,” Dean grins, and again, he is gone. 

Castiel sees him fifteen minutes or so later, when his tomatoes are being weighed by the extremely bored-looking cashier with a streak of what can only be dried shaving cream on his jaw. He spots Dean before anyone else does, sees the moment the teenager comes up to him and holds out his phone as if it was a question. Dean cracks a smile and poses with the young guy, allowing what must be hundreds of selfies being taken. Castiel wishes that he could talk to him again, but instead he slips out of the store unnoticed. For the first time in his life, he appreciates the fact that no one is watching him exit through the sliding glass doors. 


	2. The mystery of the white button

When Dean’s cheeks are aching from smiling for too long, he holds his hands up at the little crowd around him. 

”Okay, guys, I gotta go. Will I be seeing any of you on the tour?” 

An army of excited voices lashes out at him, but he welcomes it. There’s so much love behind those faces, so much gratitude that he doesn’t know how to convey. He shakes a few hands, humbly listens to the ’thank you’s and the ’we love you’s, and regrets having to tear himself away from them but he shouldn’t stay any longer. Balthazar has been scolding him about spending too much time with their fans, _but how could he not_? How could he walk past them emotionlessly, when he is nothing without them? 

”Alright, alright, one more picture. Lemme just grab my phone.” 

As he speaks they cheer, and he wishes that they would act like he was any other guy, and not scream at him like they have forgotten how to behave like human beings. 

But he loves them, way too much for his own good. 

He brings out his phone and tries to fit them all into a selfie, promptly denies the suggestion of a selfie-stick (which has everyone laughing), and suddenly his phone has disappeared into the hands of an eager girl who runs over to an old man standing a few feet away, asking him if he can take a picture of them. It’s absurd, but it’s sweet, and she spends minutes showing the man how to hold the phone in front of him and make sure that all of them fit into the frame, and then press the white button. 

”No, the _white_ button, the round one, by your right thumb!” 

”I can’t see you anymore,” the man retorts, and the girl runs back. 

”Not that button, _this_ button,” she explains for the twelfth time. Dean just laughs through it all. 

 

Balthazar, Benny, Jo and Charlie all look at him with eyes that ask the same question as every other day - _where the hell have you been_? Dean won’t let them break his happy mood, however, not now. Not when he’s trying to figure out how to post a picture of him and his sixteen new favorite fans on twitter. 

He can hear them mumbling, debating on who should speak to him. As usual, Charlie is the one to draw the short straw. 

”Dean? You missed the meeting with Bela, _again_. That’s three times now.” 

”Three fourths of the band was present. That’s more than enough.” Damn it, how do these tags work again? He types with his thumbs, but it’s a slow process. 

”You’re the singer, Dean, and that makes you the-”

”If you say ’frontman’ one more time, I swear to god, I will kick your ass.”

”Dean.”

It’s Jo this time, and he respects the tone in her voice enough to look up from his phone. He’s not _trying_ to act as a stuck-up idiot, he doesn’t _want to be one_ , but sometimes he can’t help himself. Not when they are all looking at him as if he is Freddy fucking Mercury and knows how to run up on the stage as if he owes the world. 

Now, he just wants to post the picture that the old man had so painstakingly took of them. 

”Jo, Benny, Balthy - you all know that I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. I just sing, and for some reason people like it. But I couldn’t do this without drums, bass, or guitar, and you know that. How am I supposed to be the frontman if I can’t even get up there without you three pushing me?”

Holy shit, fuck, fucking hell, no. He just said that out loud, didn’t he? The irritation that’s been growing inside him, the shit that all of them know, that even _Charlie_ knows, but none of them has ever said it out loud. 

And there it is. Blissful silence. 

”Charlie, help me out with these tags - they all gave me their twitters, but I don’t know how to make it work.” 

”I’m your manager, not your twitter consultant,” she says softly, but she leans over his shoulders and shows him how to use the ’@’-symbol instead of the ’#’-one when tagging other users. 

The silence is stiff in the room when Dean gets to his feet. He takes a deep breath, and on the exhale comes the smile that they have all been waiting for. 

”Come on, no time to sulk. We have two weeks of vacation in front of us before it’s time to start gearing up again! Benny, what is your ass still doing here? Go home to your wife! Jo, take Charlie on that date already-”

”I don’t even know what you’re-”

”Shut up, don’t tell me neither of you have thought about it.” Jo and Charlie exchange rueful looks when they think that no one is paying them any attention, and Dean wants to kick them out the door. Before long the two of them have left, Benny trailing them shortly after, until Balthazar and Dean are on their own. 

”Thank god you managed to get those two to open their eyes. All this sexual tension has been driving me _nuts,_ ” Balthazar sighs, sinking deeper into the couch of their tour bus. 

They haven’t been on a tour in a year, and Dean is starting to feel the tension of it, the not sleeping in a proper bed for too long and being careful not to overuse his voice during the days. They have just returned from a two-month long recording session in L.A., and it’s starting to wear on him. On all of them. 

Two weeks of vacation. Just what he needs. Not enough time to fly out to Sam, especially not since he just saw him last week, but more than enough to see Bobby.

”So, any hot date for tonight?” Balthazar asks, effectively breaking his line of thought. He gives his friend a tired look and watches him lift a discarded guitar onto his lap, plucking the strings randomly. They sing out with more beauty than Dean could ever muster. 

”Nope. You?” 

”I’m planning to find one. Or two. I’m not picky.” 

Dean laughs out his disgust and throws a pillow at him, making the guitar screech in protest as fingers scratch it. 

”Seriously, you need to blow off some steam, my friend. There’s enough sexual tension going on with you to outmatch Jo-Jo and Star-Trek. I know a great bar- well, technically it’s a strip club, and-”

”I’m gonna stop you right there,” Dean interrupts, his nose already cringing as he tries to get the images that just popped up in his mind to stay out. ”What I need is to get some sleep. Preferably two weeks of it.”

”Your call,” Balthazar sighs, raising his hands in defeat as he gets up to leave the bus. ”My advice? Find a nice bed instead of sleeping in this ratty thing. And call me if you change your mind.” 

”Sure will, Balthy. Sure will.” 

The door is slammed shut, seeing as that’s the only way it will keep from opening on its own accord, and Dean considers sleeping in the bus after all. The whole process of getting up, packing up his things, finding a hotel and getting a room just sounds-

Exhausting, to say the least. 

Instead, Dean finds the bottle of Jack that he knew Benny had stashed in there somewhere and drinks a little too much. He might have fallen asleep on the couch to the thoughts of blue eyes and raven black hair, but he won’t remember it. When no one is there to wake him up in the morning, he sleeps a little more. 

 

”Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Bobby grunts as Dean steps out of the taxi, and there might just be something resembling a smile on his face. 

”Good to see you too, Bobby,” Dean grins, and receives the unexpected hug. It’s not that Bobby doesn’t usually show any affection towards him, it’s just that-

He usually doesn’t. Dean knows that Bobby loves him as if he was his own son, but that’s something that they don’t talk about. 

”Three months, boy. This better not become a habit.”

”I can’t make any promises,” Dean laughs easily, and follows Bobby around the salvage yard to the ratty excuse of a garage where Dean learned to fix a flat tire, change oil, replace the spark plugs - the place where he was raised by a man who could do all those things that his real father was not capable of. 

Even something as simple as throwing a ball on a deserted field one cloudy afternoon. 

In the garage stands the reason Dean is here. Well, not here as in _here at Bobby’s_ , but here, outside amongst the dozens of cars instead of inside where there’s beer and food. 

”She’s looking good,” Dean admits, whistling a low tune. The Impala shines in all her glory as Dean runs a hand across the hood. Not for the first time, he wishes that he could bring her on the tour, but as always it is unpractical to have a 17-feet monster along when Dean usually needs to sleep while they travel.

It’s not like he would let anyone else drive her, anyways. 

”John’s been busting my ass telling me to sell her, but I’ve stood my ground. Suppose he’d ease up if you’d register it to yourself and pay him for it, but it’s none of my beeswax.”

”Bobby, you should have called - I hate that he’s bothering you.”  
”Well, as I said. Buy the car off him and maybe he’ll back off.” 

They fall silent as Dean leans against the car, both of them reliving different memories concerning Dean’s father. Bobby has never told him how bad it got that summer when he grabbed the two boys and let them live with him for a while, but then again, Dean has never asked. He does have Bobby to thank for his sanity, and quite possibly his life. 

”Have you seen him?” Bobby mutters, in that way of his when he doesn’t want to know the answer but still has to ask. 

”No.”

”You gonna?” 

”I don’t know,” Dean exhales, a bit of anger stinging the words. He turns his gaze skywards and when he spots the clear blue sky, his mind races to another kind of blue. It’s strange that he hasn’t held a proper conversation with the guy, and still Dean finds it hard to stop thinking about him. 

”By the looks of it, at least he ain’t going anywhere soon. Now, come on, let’s go inside. And tell me all about this gal Bela while we’re at it.”

” _Bela_?” Dean exclaims, because out of all the things Dean thought Bobby might bring up, she wan’t even on the list. 

”The New York Times have done quite a cover-up on your relationship, I was just wondering-”

”Bobby! I haven’t even met her yet!” Dean sighs frustratedly, wondering just how clueless his uncle can really be. _The New York Times?_ Really?

”Excuse me for trying to keep tabs on you while you travel the world and then disappear for weeks on end! Mind telling me who she is? There are quite a bit of speculation going about-”

”Incredible. I can’t believe you’re actually reading about me in the news.”

”Seeing as you’re never calling me it’s not like I have-”

”She wants to sign us to her label,” Dean interrupts, knowing that Bobby has an annoying skill-set when it comes to talking about how he’s being abandoned and forgotten, all alone in this deserted part of Kansas. Dean usually tells him to get his act together and ask his neighbor out for a date already, which most of the time shuts him up. 

Bobby tilts his head a little and frowns.

”I thought you guys were going to stick to that Ash-guy you were so fond of? 

”We were, but this is the Warner Music Group we’re talking about. Getting signed to them is _major_ , we’d get a lot of publicity, and-”

”And, what? I’m sensing that there should be a ’but’ around here somewhere.” Dean smiles weakly and barely notices how they are inside Bobby’s house already, but he accepts the beer that is put in front of him. 

”But I don’t like the feel of it. I mean, is this really us? Sticking a big fat famous label over our records and getting yet another voice that is trying to tell us what to do? Even getting used to Charlie took a toll on us.” 

”But wasn’t it for the better? Haven’t things improved?”

”Sure, but-”

”Listen, son. I’m not going to tell you what to do, but remember this: most of the time, change is a good thing. Shakes things up a little, prevents you from getting stuck in old habits. To me, it sounds like this label-thing is a great opportunity. So why not take it? The worst thing you can do is say that it didn’t work out, and go back to where you already were.”

Dean looks him over, really observes this greying man who didn’t know the first thing about the music industry that day when Dean came home and told him that he wanted to start a band. He is really trying, he has learned so much about this just because he has to be there when Dean needs to vent, has to know what to say in response. 

Dean loves him so much for it, but he will never say that out loud. Bobby knows. Of course he knows. He knows everything. 

 

It’s late by the time Dean gets a cab back to the tour bus, and thankfully the driver doesn’t recognize him. On most days, Dean can’t get enough of his fans. 

On some days, however…on some days, he wishes that he was still a blank face that most people wouldn’t look at twice. That he could go to the fucking grocery store without being recognized. 

_You chose this life, Dean. It’s not like you didn’t know what you were getting into_. 

Sam’s words, when Dean had vented his frustration to his little brother a week earlier. This life is a privilege, not a burden, and Dean just has to remember that. 

_I chose this_. 

That doesn’t mean that he can’t wish for a normal life every now and then. 

It’s late, and when Dean’s phone buzzes he frowns at it, as if he can will the person at the other end to quit the call. Whoever it is, the guy is persistent, and the resistance in Dean drains when he presses the green button. Despite being careful with his private phone, every now and then someone finds the number. Usually, there’s hell to pay for it. 

”Who is this?” he greets, not rude but not really welcoming either. Neutral, at best. 

”Uhm, Castiel? From the Starbucks downtown? And the grocery store?”

There’s a smile growing on Dean’s lips, and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s lying down on the couch and just _listens_ to the fact that Castiel is there on that other end, waiting for him to speak. 

”Castiel? Sorry, don’t know anyone by that name,” he teases, feeling only a little guilty as doubt creeps into the voice that crackles through his phone. 

”Oh, my apologies. I-”

” _However_ , there was this guy that I met at a Starbucks a few days back. He cut in line, can you believe it? And I ended up paying for him, the nerve of some people.” 

How Castiel has the ability to laugh in such a delicate way amazes Dean to the point where he feels a laugh escape his own chest. 

”Dean,” he sighs at last, exasperated and sated at the same time. Dean wants to hear his name spoken like that over and over again. 

”Cas,” he murmurs back. He reminds himself that he’s not good at this, not good at keeping normal relationships with normal people, and that Cas deserves to know that. He deserves to not get stuck in a destructive friendship before it’s too late to back out, but damn it, Dean wants this. He’s wanted it since Castiel’s space-blue eyes frowned at Dean and his head tilted when he looked at him for the first time. 

Not reaching the usually inevitable moment when recognition swells in people’s eyes had tugged at something inside Dean’s chest, something that he didn’t want to let go. 

”So, tell me. To what do I owe the pleasure of this phone call?” Dean asks, and when he hears the soft laugh that follows he suddenly wants _everything_ with this man - he wants to know what his eyes look like when he’s talking about something that he loves. He wants to know what it sounds like to hear him laugh until he can’t breathe. 

He wants to know the taste of his lips in the rain. The feeling of his skin in the early morning. 

Call him a sap and a romantic, but Dean Winchester _is_ an award-winning songwriter with just enough hope inside him to imagine that this blue-eyed angel could become something so much more than the guy he gave a cup of coffee to at a Starbucks one morning. 

”I didn’t think that you would pick up,” Castiel says at last, and has it been moments or minutes since Dean asked him a question? He can’t tell. 

”And why is that?” he retorts, finding the comment a bit odd. 

”I guess I figured that this was a fake number. Seeing as your supposedly famous and all.”

” _Supposedly famous_? Ow.” 

There’s a fond laughter coming from the other end. The rope around his heart tugs a little more, a reminder of its presence. 

”So I don’t think that I had planned to say anything at all.” 

”That’s okay,” Dean replies. It really is. 

”I just-” 

Silence. It hits Dean like an ice cold wind, and he closes his eyes and waits for it to disappear. 

”Would you like to have dinner with me?” There’s a fear in his voice, one that Dean recognizes; fear of being turned down, resented. Unwanted. 

”I would love to have dinner with you,” he replies as quickly as he can. _I would really also kind of like to see your blue eyes again_ , he thinks. His brain is kind enough to not say the words out loud. 

”Oh.” 

Dean snorts a laughter at the surprised tone of his voice, and wonders what it is about this man that just lures him in so completely and devastatingly. 

”Could I come over to your place?” Dean asks when he gives up on the hope that Castiel is going to find his voice without help. 

”Yes! I mean- sure. That would work. It would be very nice. I could cook something for us.”

”Takeout is fine, if you don’t insist on cooking. When it comes to food, I’m not especially picky.” 

”I insist.” 

”Good.”

He doesn’t know why he says it, but it feels right. Castiel hums through the phone and Dean has never wanted to be near another human being so badly before. 

”Are you free tomorrow night?”

”Tomorrow sounds great.”

”At six?”

”Perfect.”

”I will text you my address.”

”Tell me your address,” Dean says quietly, holding his breath when Castiel doesn’t immediately reply. 

”324 Pine Street. It’s about a twenty-minute drive from downtown.”

”I’ll be there,” Dean promises. He already knows exactly where Castiel lives, having all the street names programmed into his brain since childhood. Since he learned how to read from a tourist map over Lawrence. His father had scowled at him, his brother had looked on as if in awe. 

The phone call ends, and Dean looks at the little list of ”recent calls” that his phone is kind enough to show him. There is a lot of ’Sam’s, one or two ’Bobby’s and a few ’Charlie’s there, mixed up with unknown numbers and blocked caller ID’s. 

Dean copies Castiel’s number and hits the ’create new contact’-button. He types out the name, changes his mind, and deletes the last four letters. 

_CAS_

With a smile he changes his clothes, brushes his teeth and actually indulges in the luxury of the double bed that is crammed inside the single, very small excuse of a bedroom inside the bus. Benny is usually the one who gets dibs, since he likes to sleep on his side and fell out of the middle bunk bed once when the bus hit a turn a little too quickly. 

The double bed is soft. Dean can barely remember the time he had his own bed, let alone his own room. A never-ending set of hotel beds, that’s all he knows of. 

As he falls asleep, however, he imagines having a king-sized, fluffy bed to wake up in, with someone at his side. 


	3. Not quite a date, but still

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I APOLOGIZE for the extremely slow updates, so to pay you back I give to you: not one, not two, but THREE chapters! Leave a comment if you like it xx

Six o’clock can’t come too soon. Castiel spends the entire day being wound up and unfocused, and even Gabriel, who from time to time can be quite unfocused himself, gets tired of him eventually. 

”Go home, Cassie. Go home and do whatever it is you need to do so badly. The kids will survive without you for one afternoon.” 

Castiel goes home then, and spends the next hour or so stressing about what to wear. Only after he has tried on the same shirt four times does he remember that he had promised to cook, and a quick glance at the clock does nothing to settle his burning nerves. 5:28 pm. Wearing nothing but slacks and tense shoulders, he hurries into the kitchen to see if there is actually anything edible there. 

The sight of spaghetti greets him in one of the drawers. Because who doesn’t like spaghetti?

”Crazy people,” he mumbles to himself, and gets a pot filled with water that he places on the stove. After adding a touch of salt, he puts the lid on and heads for the fridge, where two packs of bacon and some grated cheese makes him confident that he will actually be able to pull this dinner-thing off. Before the water starts to boil he does a run into his bedroom again and angrily flicks on the light to his wardrobe as if it is responsible for the fact that he seems incapable of choosing clothes. 

He ends up on a plain, boring, ordinary white shirt with black slacks and considers putting on a tie before he remembers Dean’s Led Zeppelin t-shirt and ratty jeans. 

Feeling a bit better about himself, Castiel even rolls the sleeves of the shirt up as he re-enters the kitchen. Steam is blowing from underneath the lid, so he removes it and pours some pasta into the furious water. Placing a frying pan on the stove is the last thing he does before he remember that he didn’t put on any deodorant after his shower, he runs into the bathroom to correct his mistake. 

_Jesus christ_ he’s actually nervous. 

He jumps a little at the sound of his phone buzzing, and picks it up before he knows what he is doing.

”Castiel Novak.”

_”Cas! Could you come to the Seraph’s real quick? I have to drive Claire to the hospital, and-”_

It’s Jody’s voice, surprisingly calm considering what she’s asking of Castiel. He interrupts her even though he didn’t mean to.

”What? What’s wrong with her?”

_”Would you believe me if I told you that she fell down the stairs and broke her leg?”_

Castiel groans and covers his eyes with his hand.

”I don’t know, should I believe you?”

_”Mm, yeah, probably.”_

”Oh, Jody, I don’t know if I can make it. I sort of have a date-”

_”Castiel Novak, what is this I hear? You? On a date?”_

”I’m making him dinner.” 

” _Guys_ ,” she sighs exasperatedly, but quickly regains her focus. _”Well, Anna and I are the only ones left here, and you’re the only one who has picked up the phone. I don’t want to leave her here alone.”_

”You know what, let me drive Claire to the hospital. I can probably talk Dean into waiting for another hour or so.” 

_”Oh, thank you so much, you’re the best.”_

There’s a knock on the door that makes him groan at the mess he’s gotten himself into. Maybe Dean would be okay with just waiting for him in the house? He’ll have to take the bus to the Seraph’s, of course, and borrow Jody’s car, and get to the hospital, and wait for Claire to get help, and drive her back, and-

”Hello?” The most beautiful voice Castiel has ever heard rings through the house, and he hurries to open the door. He is met by green eyes and a gentle smile that only grows when he takes in Castiel.

”Wow, you look great,” he says, which makes Castiel frown. He’s wearing a plain shirt and black trousers. There’s nothing about him that looks _great_. 

”So, what’s a guy gotta do to get some food?”

_The food_ , Castiel has completely forgotten about the frying bacon and the boiling pasta, and without a single word he runs to the kitchen just in time to save it from burning down. 

Dean follows him, chuckling softly as he smells the charcoal bacon.

”Maybe I should have insisted on take out.”

”I apologize, Dean. But I just got a phone call from the orphanage where I work, and I need to take one of the children to the hospital. You are most welcome to stay here, if you’d like, or perhaps we should try this again some other time?” 

”Shit, Cas, why didn’t you say anything! Come on, i’ll drive,” he urges, every trace of humor gone from his face as he all but pulls Castiel to the front door. 

”Really, I don’t want to trouble you. Just wait here-”

”Cas,” he protests, and it’s enough for Castiel to understand that he can ask this of Dean. He puts on shoes and his trench coat, and after double checking that the stove is turned off, he follows Dean into the cool evening. 

What he hadn’t expected was to see a black _monster_ of a car parked on the street. Dean looks up questioningly at him as he walks around the front to the driver’s door, raising his hands in a ’what?’-gesture that helps spur Castiel into action. He tentatively opens the door, and there’s something almost familiar with the way the hinges creak and the feeling of the leather seat underneath him as he sits down. The engine rumbles to life and Castiel can’t do anything but look at Dean in awe.

”This is a very nice car,” he mumbles, which eases a laugh out of Dean’s chest. 

”She’s my baby, I haven’t driven her in a while. Never really get the opportunity to bring her along.” 

”I see,” Castiel replies. He doesn’t know if he should say anything else. 

”So, what’s happened to the kid we’re driving?”

”Jody thinks that she has broken her leg.”

”Ouch. What’s her name?”

”Claire. She is turning eighteen in a few months.” He pauses for a moment, and when Dean doesn’t fill the silence, he adds, ”I think she is afraid of leaving. The orphanage has an age limit of eighteen years, the children can’t stay forever. Her life has been…tough, to say the least. She lost both of her parents when she was very young, and has been in more foster families than one could count. The Seraph’s is the first place where she has really felt at home.”

Dean nods thoughtfully as he drives, and Castiel asks him if he knows the way to the Starbucks where they met. He does. 

”So, the Seraph’s?”

”That’s the name of the orphanage.”

”It’s kind of cool. Did you know that a seraph is a type of angel?”

”Anna is the one who picked the name, I have never had a reason to reflect upon-”

”Hang on, what do you mean ’picked the name’?”

”Well, me, Anna and Gabriel founded the Seraph’s a few years back. The name sort of stuck with us.”

”Are you saying that you founded an orphanage? Cas, that’s-”

”What?”

Dean turns his head towards Castiel, which makes him frightened that he’s going to drive off the road, but it only lasts for a split second.

”You’re awesome,” he grins, but there is a sincerity behind the words that takes Castiel by surprise. 

”Thank you?”

”Yeah,” he scoffs, and wipes a hand across his mouth in what can only be contemplation. ”So, you actually work at an orphanage. Wow.” 

”That, and I’m a part-time writer. I used to have a column in the newspaper, but now it’s very occasional.”

”Look, I don’t want to pry, but what kind of salary do you get for working at the orphanage? Seems like something that’s mostly charity work, to be honest.” 

Castiel hides a blush by gazing out the window. They are almost there. He wonders what is going on in Claire’s head right now.

”I lost my family when I was fourteen years old, and they left me with quite a fortune. Enough for me to work part-time.”

”Oh.” 

There’s no easy way to continue that conversation, and Castiel knows this, he knows it and yet he backed himself into a corner. But to be fair, Dean had asked. 

And now they sit in silence for the last four minutes, however it is anything but awkward. Dean seems to be lost in thought, which gives Castiel a moment to observe his profile. More than a moment. It might as well have been an eternity, with how easily it is to get lost in his beautiful face. 

Dean parks outside the Seraph’s and waits in the car while Castiel runs inside, grateful to find that Claire is already dressed and in the hallway. Pain is evident on her face, but as always, she is trying to hide it. 

”Claire,” Castiel sighs, which just makes her draw her brows together even further and squint her eyes at him - something that she has learned from him. 

”What are _you_ doing here?” she mutters, and just then Jody arrives with a relieved and much more welcoming expression. 

”Oh, thank god you are here. And are you sure you’re okay with driving? I could go instead.”

”No, don’t worry about it. I’ve got some help.” 

”Is it the date?” Jody stage-whispers, and at that, Claire actually perks up.

”You’ve got a date?”

Castiel regrets ever mentioning this to Jody. 

”Yes, he’s outside in the car. Come on, let’s go.” 

Half-carrying the quite resistant Claire, they somehow make it out to the car. She falls quiet when she sees the beast, and gives Castiel the same look that he had given to Dean not so long ago. Just then, Dean exits the car to give them a helping hand. 

”So, you’re the _date_?” Claire gets out, complaining quite loudly when they get her into the car. Cas and Dean get back in the front seat, and only when the car has started up and Dean twists his head to check that the street is clear does she let out a surprised yelp. 

”Oh _shit_ , hell no!” she curses, and Castiel immediately turns to give her a stern look. 

”Claire, language,” he hisses. Instead of the usual eye-roll, she just stares at him in confusion. 

”That’s- holy shit, is that really-?”

”Dean Winchester, pleased to meet you, Claire,” Dean chuckles, looking back quickly to give her a smile. 

If she wasn’t about to faint before, she certainly is now. 

”This has got to be the worst fucking time _ever_ to meet a celebrity. I look like crap.” 

”You look nice,” Castiel corrects, and _there_ comes the eye-roll. 

”I’m sorry, I must be high on whatever pain-killers that Jody gave me. Am I really in Dean Winchester’s car?” 

”Yes,” the two men reply in unison. Dean shoots Castiel an amused smile. 

”Jesus Christ, this is so absurd.” There’s a moment of silence before she starts to speak again. ”So, Dean. I gotta ask: ’All I wanted’ - is it about Lisa Braeden?”

Castiel wonders if Dean is okay with this, and is just about to come up with some way to divert the question when Dean chuckles and glances at Claire through the rear-view mirror.

”Wow, someone’s been listening to ’Lazarus Rising’?” 

”It’s not my favorite album, but there are some good songs on it.” 

”Claire!” Castiel blurts, wishing that she could turn on her word-filter for once. 

”It’s okay, Cas. Really,” Dean grins. ”I find it refreshing, remember?” Castiel frowns at that, but decides not to intervene again. ”It’s sort of about Lisa, but not quite,” Dean explains, and raises a hand before Claire can ask a follow-up question. ”It’s about the search for the perfect love, for your soulmate, if you believe in that, and how many times you get your heart broken before you find the one you’ve been looking for. I guess I thought that Lisa was the one, and when it turned out that she wasn’t, well…I need to believe that there’s someone out there for me.” 

”Oh god,” Claire whispers, a mix of horror and embarrassment on her face. Naturally, Castiel thinks that she’s cringing over the pain in her leg, and panic seizes his mind. 

”What? What’s wrong, Claire?” he asks immediately, and she just exhales heavily. 

”I had no idea you’d be such a _romantic_.” 

Castiel feels like sinking through the earth, but Dean breaks out in a full-body laugh that even has the corners of Claire’s lips tugging into a smile. 

”Oh, you two might just be the most brutally honest people I have ever met. I love it,” he laughs, actually wiping away a tear that’s forming in the corner of his eye. Castiel might just be adoring the way he pulls himself together to focus on driving again. It’s nothing that he would admit, however. 

 

It is a calm night at the ER, meaning that Claire gets help at once while Castiel and Dean get to take a seat in the waiting room. They give each other occasional glances, and both smile when their eyes meet. It is all making Castiel feel a little like a shy teenager on the prom, but he really couldn’t care less. 

”I’m sorry I ruined our dinner,” he says at last, but Dean scoffs in disagreement. 

”Are you kidding me? I got to drive my baby, I was harassed by a fan, and now I get to sit next to you for an indefinite amount of time. I couldn’t ask for a better date.” 

Castiel looks up sharply at that, wondering if Dean said the wrong word by mistake. Because this isn’t a date, right? Because Dean is funny, and charming, and makes Castiel laugh, and-

”You’re staring at me again,” Dean says fondly. Castiel blinks and reluctantly breaks the eye contact. 

”Sorry.”

”I don’t mind. You have really pretty eyes.”

Castiel actually winces at that, and he fights the urge to get to his feet. Dean seems to sense that he’s made a mistake, so he places a light hand on Castiel’s arm while he rants:

”You- you can’t just _say_ things like that, and expect me to-”

The kiss should have taken him by surprise, but for some reason it doesn’t. It’s chaste and sweet and leaves Castiel breathless. When Dean pulls away he licks his lips and blinks hard a few times. 

”I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment I saw you.” 

Castiel wrinkles his nose but smiles through it, and says, ”Claire’s right, you really are a romantic.” 

”Not something I want people to find out.”

”Your secret is safe with me, I promise.”

”Good,” Dean laughs. Castiel would really like to kiss him again. The singer leans back in the chair and Castiel copies him, letting his head rest on the wall behind them. 

”So, Lisa?” he asks, in lack of anything else to say. 

”Yeah, not my finest moment. We had quite a messy break-up about a year ago now, around the time when our last tour ended. She’s got this wonderful son, from a previous relationship, really, really clever. I just love the kid. But my job requires me to travel a lot, and she just didn’t want her son to grow up with a father-figure that was gone all the time. I suppose that she didn’t want to live that way either. It’s not ideal. Anyways, I came home from the tour, and she kicked me out.”

”Just like that?”

Dean shrugs and gets a faraway look in his eyes, one that Castiel doesn’t know if he should break. After a minute or so, he blinks out of it and smiles. 

”Yeah, well, it would never have worked out.” 

Castiel nods softly and recalls something Dean mentioned before. Curiosity gets the better of him, so he asks: 

”Do you believe in soulmates?” 

Dean grins at that, and gives Castiel a look that he can’t quite decipher. 

”I believe that there are a number of people out there that have the potential of being your soulmate. You just have to choose one and give yourself over completely, and hope that the other person does the same.” 

”Is that what went wrong with Lisa? She didn’t choose you?”

”Sometimes when I’m angry, that’s what I like to think. But no, it was my fault.”

Irritation and confusion hits Castiel then, and he closes his eyes to try to keep it out of his voice. 

”How can you say that? How can you think that it was your fault, after explaining your beautiful theory about soulmates?”

”If I’d given her more, and just- I don’t know. This is stupid,” he mutters, leaning forwards to rest his elbows on his knees. Castiel sees the pain in his tense shoulders, and in a moment of extraordinary courage he puts a hand on his back. Heat radiates through his shirt. 

”I think that maybe she didn’t love you back the way a soulmate would have.”

Dean doesn’t agree, but at least he doesn’t disagree, and Castiel considers that a small victory. 

Before long, Castiel has to remove his hand from Dean’s back at the arrival of Claire’s doctor. And, behind her, a grumpy-looking Claire on crutches with her leg in a cast. 

”Which one of you is Mr. Casti-” The doctor cuts herself off when Castiel and Dean stand up, eyes glued to Dean, who waves with an easy-going smile. 

”Yeah, it’s really him. And that other guy is Castiel,” Claire explains, already jumping towards the exit. Dean is by her side in an instant, while Castiel takes a moment to talk to the doctor. Apparently, Claire’s lower right leg is broken, like they had suspected, but it’s a clean break and should heal nicely. He gets a time and date for a second appointment, and thanks the doctor before joining Dean and Claire in Dean’s car. 

They haven’t been on the road for more than a minute before Castiel turns around and drills his eyes into Claire. 

”Would you mind telling me exactly what happened? And I don’t buy that you fell down the stairs.”

”I did!” she exclaims, takes a breath, and repeats in a much calmer voice, ”I did. Just not the ones at home.” 

”Which ones then?” 

”I was at Randy’s-”

”How many times have I told you to stay away from that man? Claire, do we really need to have this discussion again?” Castiel barks, completely unaware of Dean in the seat next to him. He might just be putting the singer through more family-drama than he was prepared for.

”I’m not going back, okay? He was the one who pushed me down the stairs.” 

With those few words, Castiel goes from furious to feeling a swell of sympathy for the girl. All she wanted was to make a place for herself in the world, and Castiel is not even remotely pleased that he was right about Randy. Not when it has left Claire with a broken leg and a hurting heart. 

”Claire,” he says softly, reaching back to place a hand on her shoulder. She watches it warily, as if he would suddenly decide to choke her. ”You _have_ a family, alright? It’s me, Jody, Alex, Krissy, Gabriel, Anna, Alfie, everyone at the Seraph’s. We’re not going to abandon you just because you turn eighteen, I hope you know that.” 

She quirks her lips in a half-hearted attempt at a smile, but refuses to meet Castiel’s eyes. He decides that it’s enough talk for one night, and turns around into his seat again. And when he gives Dean an apologetic smile, all he gets in response is that look again - the one that Castiel doesn’t fully understand. 


	4. Breakfast for lunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, new chapter! Hope you like it xx

The dinner slash date slash trip to the hospital ended with a kiss. A deep, affectionate kiss that had Dean gasping for more, but that was it. Cas didn’t invite him into the house again, and so Dean didn’t ask. It’s probably the first time in…well…. _forever_ that he has a first hot date that doesn’t end with sex. 

He’s not quite sure whether it’s a good development of his personality or not. Probably the former. 

As he wakes up on the fifth day of his vacation, he finds that he has no plans at all. Eleven days off, eleven days of freedom, and he doesn’t know how to spend it. Dean doesn’t _do_ vacation, he doesn’t know what to do with himself when he doesn’t have a job to go to. Maybe he should learn how to not do anything. To just sit on a chair and stare at a wall. 

_Or_ , he could call his old classmate Mike that he hasn’t met in at least a year. Perhaps check if Balthazar is up for a drink later. Pick up his guitar to get the next album going, even though his creative mind is alarmingly quiet. Maybe-

_Ramble On_ with Led Zeppelin starts playing, and Dean instinctively grabs his phone. It’s nine in the morning, which isn’t that early, really, but Dean still frowns as he reads ’CAS’ on the screen. 

”Cas?” he rasps, voice not even remotely close to functioning properly. He should probably take some time to really take care of his vocal chords to make sure that they will last for the next couple of months. 

_”Good morning, Dean. I hope I didn’t wake you?”_

”No, no, of course not. How’s Claire?”

_”Pretty much the same. Jody and I had a talk this morning, and hopefully Claire will agree to move in with her for a while. Another girl, Alex, turns eighteen the same week, so the plan is that they will do it together.”_

”Sounds like a good solution,” Dean smiles, hearing how tired he sounds. 

_”I hope so.”_

A silence follows, before Dean speaks again.

”You worry about her, don’t you?”

_”I just want her to have a normal life. No, a_ happy _life. I don’t care if it is normal or not. But she deserves to be happy.”_

”Sounds to me like you are the best thing that has happened to her in a while.”

Cas hums in response, the vibration of it making Dean smile.

_”Are you busy today?”_ Cas blurts, and Dean wants to yell out a big, fat, loud ’thank you’ to the heavens. 

”Nope. You?” he asks instead. 

_”I was wondering if I could buy you some brunch? There is a Saturday-special at-”_

”I’d love to come to your place. If that’d be alright,” Dean interrupts. He pictures himself and Cas at a restaurant, and all he can see is people taking photos, journalists crowding their table and Dean paying attention to everything but the person next to him. It has happened more than once, and he would rather not put Cas through that unpleasant experience.

” _Uh, yes. I suppose that’s alright. Are you sure though? I don’t-”_

”I’m sure. Positive. I can make us pancakes.”

Cas chuckles quietly at that, and Dean presses the phone closer to his ear to hear him better. How he can be so addicted to this man is a mystery to him, but he doesn’t want it to stop. 

_”Well, I’m not doing anything, so just stop by when it suits you. If you would like some bacon and eggs you will have to go to a grocery store on the way. I have syrup and pancake batter.”_

”I’ll be there in fifteen.” 

 

Dean hadn’t realized just how much he had missed driving the Impala until he was behind the wheel again. He is sad that he has to return her to Bobby soon, but for now, he is going to spend as much time driving as he can. The drive to the grocery store takes three minutes. Inside, he grabs bacon and eggs and Nutella, poses for a few selfies with some eager fans, and drives to Cas’s house in just over four minutes. All in all, it takes sixteen minutes from the time he ended the call until he is knocking on Cas’s door. 

A tired smile and bed-hair that shouldn’t be _legal_ greets Dean and lets him come inside. Dean wants to kiss him, but he doesn’t know if that is something that they do. If kisses should be spared for the intensely charged moments when they are so close that they just have to touch. 

Cas has already prepared the batter, so he heats up one pan for the pancakes and one pan where Dean makes scrambled eggs and bacon. It’s comfortable, working like this. Dean lures out another laugh from Cas as he tells him about the one time he and Sam made pancakes from scratch and took two cups of baking powder instead of two tablespoons. Needless to say, they made a mess. 

”So, Sam is your brother.” 

”Yes, the kid’s four years younger than me. He’s graduating law school in just a few weeks, and he’s done the intern years already so he’s all done! A real lawyer, 25 years old.” 

”You must be very proud,” Cas muses as he flips the last two pancakes and puts them on top of the rest. It’s quite a stack, and Dean is already looking forwards to when he can _eat_ them. 

”I am. He’s been at it for so long, I’d never be able to study for seven years.”

”You haven’t gone to college then?”

”Me? God no, I’m a high school dropout. Me and Balthazar went to the same school, we used to jam together instead of going to the lessons. A local bar hired us in to play each and every month, and we decided to just go for it. Neither of us liked going to school.”

”That sounds a bit risky,” Cas frowns, and when he tilts his head Dean can’t help but smile. ”What was your plan B? There must have been one?” 

Dean considers the question for a moment, thinking back on his and Balthazar’s plans. Never, ever did they think about what they were going to do if music didn’t work out. 

”No plan B. I guess we both knew what we wanted.”

They carry the food and plates into Cas’s living room, where they end up next to each other on the couch. Cas makes a pancake with bacon, eggs and syrup. Dean starts out with Nutella. 

”I envy you.”

”You envy _me?_ Dude, you could do whatever you want!” When Cas’s eyes are suddenly filled with pain, Dean understands that his enthusiasm was misplaced. Before he can apologize for it, Cas speaks.

”I never came as far as a plan A. I graduated high school, studied business at college, because that’s what my aunt told me to do, then I started writing just for the fun of it and founded an orphanage because I know what it’s like to be an orphan. I still don’t know what I want to do with my life. And you-” he gestures towards Dean with a piece of pancake stuck on his fork. ”You’re this famous singer who never even needed a plan B.”

”It’s not what I want to do for the rest of my life though.”

Cas smiles crookedly and puts his fork down. 

”Maybe we both need a new plan.”

”Yeah,” Dean scoffs, and stuffs his mouth with more food. 

They finish the breakfast and stay on the couch next to each other. Dean stretches his legs out and when his feet end up close to Cas’s thigh, the guy scoots closer and lets them rest in his lap. The touch of Cas’s hands on Dean’s shins is strangely comforting, and for an indefinite time they just sit like that, talking about everything they can think of. Dean finds out that Cas loves cats, and reading. In turn, Dean reveals that he always wanted to get a dog, and that his car is the only place where he has felt completely at home. It’s tiny, unimportant things, but together they form a montage of facts that makes Dean even more fond of his blue-eyed friend. 

Cas has just spent ten minutes telling Dean about all the children at the orphanage when he abruptly finishes with ”The only thing I want is for them to have a better childhood than me”. Dean’s toes twitch and he can feel the tension through Cas’s slender fingers.

”Would you tell me what happened to your parents?” he says gently. The fingers squeeze his legs as if they need to be grounded. 

”My mother, father and two sisters died in an earthquake. We lived in California at the time, and our house collapsed. I was at school when it happened, no one was allowed to go home.” 

”How old were you?”

”Fourteen. My aunt Naomi took me in quite unwillingly, kicked me out when she found out that I was gay, then took me in again once I turned eighteen and got access to my heritage. Apparently my parents had invested in some company and earned millions and millions of dollars. I had no knowledge of it, they never told me.”

”So your aunt kicked you out because you were gay?” Dean frowns, his heart skipping a beat when Cas so bluntly said the word. Dean is not the most open guy when it comes to sharing his personal life with others. As he looks at Cas now, how he tilts his head and regards Dean, probably considering something he had said, Dean wonders how he can feel so at ease next to him. How he, a guy who can barely give his little brother a hug, wants to sit and talk to this man for hours. 

”Would you call yourself gay, Dean?”

Whoah, okay, he had not expected that question so soon. 

”Uh, yes? No? Bit of both? It’s not something I like to talk about.”

”So you have never faced homophobia?”

_Oh._

”No.”

”My aunt…she was furious. One of her friends had taken a photo of me kissing a guy and shown her, and when I came home all my things were piled up outside the front door. I was fifteen, and homeless. Luckily it was California and not here, because I could sleep outside without getting cold. But I met some weird people. I-”

Dean can see how his thoughts drift away to places he doesn’t want to describe out loud. He lets the silence play on, exceedingly curious but respectful enough not to pry. 

”Anyways, there were some nice people as well. One told me about an orphanage where I would get food, a place to sleep and an education. The place was filthy, the food disgusting, but I started high school and made it to graduation. Some of the staff would hit us if we took too much food or made a mess, and we rarely talked to each other. I was so alone for three years.” He clears his throat and straightens up a little, giving Dean’s legs another squeeze.

”But now I’m happy. I chose a college in Lawrence to get away from my aunt, and that’s where I met Anna and Gabriel. We started the Seraph’s, and all the children there are my family now.”

”But you still want a plan A.” 

”Yes,” he replies with a crooked smile. ”I would really like a plan A.” 

”I guess we’ll have to work on that.”

”What about you, Dean? What did your parents say when you dropped out of high school?”

Dean can feel his heart quicken and his first instinct is to run away, but this is _Cas_ , and he can do this. He _has to_ do this, after the things Cas just told him. If there is one thing he knows, it is that trust goes both ways.

”My mom died in a house fire when I was four, Sammy was just a baby. Dad struggled a lot after her death, so he wasn’t the most supportive parent. We had Uncle Bobby to help, but neither of them could make me change my mind. I wanted to play music.”

”Your Uncle must be close with your dad?”

”Hell no, they hate each other. But Bobby wants what’s best for me and Sammy, so we’re real lucky to have him. He lives in Lawrence too.”

The conversation drops, and _damn it_ why can’t Dean keep it going? He wants to, so badly, but nothing comes to mind. He starts fiddling with his fingers and the more he thinks about what to say the more he focuses on the fact that it’s quiet. _Damn it, damn it, damn it_ , just say something-

”I’m gonna do the dishes,” Cas almost whispers. 

”I’ll help you!”

”Uh, okay. You sure?”

”Cas, I haven’t done the dishes in three years. Let me do the dishes.” 

They balance the plates on the way back to the kitchen, and Cas lets Dean take the lead. He finds it strange to enjoy such an ordinary act, but as he soaks his hands in soapy water there is a small smile on his face. 

”You do know that I have a dishwasher?”

”Don’t ruin it,” Dean says softly. Cas disappears from his line of sight for a moment, so he figures that he has gone to busy himself with something else in the meantime. Therefore he is not prepared when two arms sneak their way around his waist and a chin digs into his shoulder. The embrace is warm and Dean can feel Cas’s hair tickling the side of his neck.

”I find it endearing that you like to do the dishes,” he mumbles, his voice vibrating through Dean’s skin.

”I think I can manage it once every three years.”

Once the last plate has been cleaned and put away, Dean turns around to find himself facing Cas’s soft eyes.

He thoroughly enjoys being in Cas’s presence. No one is expecting anything of him, there are no cameras flashing in his face and no reporters shouting questions at him. Castiel takes him to a completely different world, where he can laugh until he loses his voice and feel completely and utterly safe. If there is one thing he has learned during the last couple of days, it is that he does not want to ruin this. He is going to fight to make it work.

”I had a great breakfast, thank you,” Cas says. It is an opportunity to leave, one that Dean doesn’t want to take.

”Me too.” Four seconds of silence later, he adds, ”Do you wanna watch a movie?”

The corners of Cas’s lips quirk up into a smile. 

”I’d love to watch a movie with you.”

Saturday, May, in a lovely house in Lawrence, Kansas. The sun is shining outside but Dean and Cas sit on the couch and open Netflix. Dean gets to pick a movie, and he hopes that Cas will enjoy _Shawshank Redemption_. 

The title credits haven’t even stopped rolling when Cas scoots a little closer. Dean puts his hand on the back of the couch and slowly lets it drape Cas’s shoulders. Cas leans into Dean’s touch, and they shuffle even closer. 

Dean Winchester has never been a fan of cuddling. But snuggling up next to Cas in front of a good movie? 

He’s gonna cuddle the hell out of this man.


	5. Date No. 3

After _Shawshank Redemption_ , Castiel gets to pick a movie. He chooses the first one he sees, because at the moment, the movie is not the most important thing. Dean’s hand that is making tiny circles on his arm, however, is quite important right now. He exhales happily and shuffles even closer to Dean. 

Dean, who talks to his brother every day even if it is just for two minutes. Dean, who enjoys the mundane act of doing the dishes. 

Castiel sighs blissfully and closes his eyes. The movie is playing in the background. Right now, there is nothing that Castiel has to do, no place else where he has to be. And Dean’s arms are so, so comfortable. 

”Hey, Cas. The movie’s finished.”

Castiel wakes up disoriented. He is still wrapped up in Dean’s arms, somehow he has ended up half-lying on the couch all splayed across Dean’s legs. Unwillingly he straightens up and offers a crooked smile. 

”I must have fallen asleep.”

”Hell yeah you did. Good movie though.”

”I don’t remember which one I picked.”

Dean grins and his nose crinkles in an adorable way. ”Me neither. I wasn’t watching it.”

”What were you doing then?”

A cocked eyebrow is enough for Castiel to understand that Dean may have been watching him instead of the tv-screen. It makes a warm, fuzzy feeling spread in his chest when he should feel freaked out. 

”It’s five pm,” Dean announces, as if that time should mean something special. Castiel nods even though he doesn’t understand. 

”I’ve been here all day.”

”It’s been pleasant.” 

”Yeah.” 

They sit in silence for a moment, then Dean stretches his arms and gets to his feet. 

”Show me to the door?”

”Of course.” 

Castiel guides Dean through the house with one hand ghosting his lower back, drinking in as much of Dean’s presence as he can. He wasn’t prepared for this, to be left alone again. Separation has always been tough on him, and he never wants to let Dean out of his sight. Not when his eyes are glistening forests and his freckles paint galaxies that Castiel just wants to get lost in. 

”So, I’ll call you?” Dean suggests as he puts on his shoes, struggling a little with the left one. 

”Please do.” 

When Dean doesn’t have an excuse to linger any longer, he puts his hand on the doorknob and opens it an inch. Castiel can see how he swallows, thoughts undoubtedly racing through his mind as he turns his head back towards him. 

”I don’t want to leave,” he whispers, and Castiel just _knows_ how difficult it was for him to say those words out loud. He takes a step forwards and his hand somehow ends up gripping Dean’s arm.

”Then stay.” 

Dean all but attacks him with a kiss, desperation seeping through it and Castiel never wants to let go.

They end up kissing in the hallway for quite some time. It’s only when Castiel notices that the front door is still open that he breaks away, pulling it closed with a smile.

”I don’t think my neighbor would approve if she walked by.”

”Screw your neighbor.”

Castiel scrunches up his nose and frowns at that, thinking about his 60-plus-something white-haired neighbor and how he would most definitely not like to screw her. He is about to tell Dean as much when he realizes what the singer actually meant, and can feel a blush creeping up. To hide his flaming cheeks he pecks Dean’s lips again, already getting used to the warm honey-and-whiskey taste of him. Dean replies with a soft hum and he cards his fingers through Castiel’s unruly hair, tugging a little and the pain shoots spikes of pleasure down Castiel’s spine. 

In a moment of courage Castiel places his hands on Dean’s hips and gives them a squeeze, to which Dean moans and thrusts his hips forwards against Castiel’s. Suddenly Castiel is stumbling backwards until his back hits a wall. He moans a breath as Dean’s tongue darts into his mouth and welcomes it, losing his breath for a second when Dean slots a leg in between Castiel’s and grinds his growing erection against Castiel’s thigh. If Castiel wasn’t already turned on, he certainly is now. 

”Dean,” he mumbles against his lips, frantically taking hold of Dean’s shirt because he knows where they are headed and he’s not sure if he is ready. Sex should be the easiest thing there is, but it is still too important to him to just throw himself into - he wants to remember it. 

”Dean, wait,” he repeats, more urgently this time, and now Dean hears the sincerity in his voice. He backs away instantly, leaving a full inch between them and Castiel desperately wants them to touch again. 

”Too much?” Dean winces, cheeks blushed and hair standing in each and every direction. 

”Too soon. I have this rule to wait until the third date.”

”The third date? What are we on even?”

”Well, there was the failed dinner slash hospital tour-” Castiel raises one finger as if to tick the dates off a list, ”then breakfast this morning, and, well…”

Dean’s eyes light up and he apparently feels brave enough to take Castiel’s hands in his. 

”Cas, would you like to have dinner with me? Tonight, preferably?”

Castiel can’t hide the smile that cracks his entire face. ”I would love to have dinner with you,” he says. 

”Great! How about we order some pizza?” 

Castiel laughs heartily and leans in for a kiss. 

”Sounds perfect.”

They call Dean’s favorite restaurant and place an order, Castiel struggling a little to focus when Dean insists on kissing the side of his neck. When Castiel can _finally_ hang up, he tries to give Dean a scolding look but ends up giggling like a teenager instead. 

Maybe throwing himself into having sex wouldn’t be so bad after all. He is obsessed with Dean, and wants to experience everything he can with him before their time runs out.

”I- Dean, hang on-” Castiel tries in between Dean’s kisses, since he is practically melting into his touch and speaking is a bit difficult at the moment. Dean pulls away with a reluctant noise and lets his head rest in the crook of Castiel’s neck. ”I really appreciate you,” Castiel says at last, not quite sure how to phrase his feelings. ”And I want this. I really do.”

”I want this too, Cas.” He raises his head to meet Castiel’s eyes, to look at him properly. ”It scares the shit out of me, but I don’t know how I’ve been able to live without you until now.” 

It’s cheesy and romantic and Castiel can’t help but love it. He lunges into another kiss that doesn’t end until the doorbell rings and Castiel has to back away because he can see the pizzaman through the window. 

”Let me pay for the pizza, and then we can continue,” he mumbles. Dean lets go of him but Castiel can feel his eyes on the back of his head as he opens the door. 

With the cardboard box in his hands Castiel heads into the living room, Dean trailing him closely. They end up feeding each other the pizza and making a mess, and it’s wonderful. However, they have only made it halfway through when Dean leans in to lick a stripe on Castiel’s chin. Once he has straightened up again, he laughs at Castiel’s expression.

”You had tomato sauce on your chin,” he explains. Castiel replies by kissing him deeply, and the pizza is quickly discarded.

Dean climbs on top of Castiel on the couch, one hand somewhere above Castiel’s head for support while the other is already sprawled out on his stomach. Castiel runs his fingers through Dean’s short hair and tugs a little at the strands in his neck, making him groan deeply into the kiss. It’s too much, but Castiel still wants more. He wounds one arm around Dean’s waist and puts some pressure on his lower back, guiding him closer and closer until their hips meet and create a delightful friction in all the right places. Dean grinds down again and Castiel stutters out a breath against his lips when he feels Dean’s half-hard cock against his own. His fingers find their way underneath Dean’s shirt, and he runs them up and down Dean’s sides. 

Dean replies by sitting up and pulling his shirt off, after which he helps Castiel get his shirt off as well. When he goes down again for another kiss, their sweaty skin sticks together and Castiel has to pull away from the kiss just to catch his breath. 

Dean decides to make use of the break, so he unzips his jeans and shucks them off, then he dives down and starts to spread kisses from Castiel’s jaw and along his neck, biting lightly at his collarbone. Castiel moans breathlessly as Dean’s teeth find his right nipple and starts teasing it, his fingers paying attention to the left one. The sensations are overwhelming and still not enough, not until Dean’s other hand finds its way inside Castiel’s underwear and _whoah-_

Castiel sits up when Dean’s fingers wrap around his cock and give it a slight squeeze. 

”Dean,” he breathes, and when he looks down he is met by two mischievous green eyes. 

”What is it, angel?” Dean replies as he squeezes his shaft again, and with a strength Castiel didn’t know that he had he flips them around, Dean landing on his back with a surprised huff. Castiel can’t get his pants off quick enough, and _oh,_ is it worth it when he thrusts his hips down and feels their erections sliding up against each other. 

Dean looks a little shocked where he lies underneath Castiel, so Castiel leans down to kiss the expression off his face. The singer quickly regains his focus, and when he returns the kiss it’s almost filthy how much tongue they use. 

Castiel could come like this, rutting against Dean’s cock, but he still wants _more_ and he knows that he can ask it of Dean. That somehow, they are on the same page. 

He slows down his thrusts and hangs his head down, breaths coming heavily with Dean’s hand on his chest. 

”You are so beautiful,” Dean rasps. Castiel kisses his words away. 

”Are you fine with doing this on the couch?” Castiel asks once the kiss has ended, and he is a little worried with how wrecked Dean looks. 

”Yes, please, I don’t care. I just need you,” he blurts. Castiel regretfully leaves his body heat to pick up lube in the bathroom. His fingers hover over the condoms, and he wonders if they will need them. He bites his lips and grabs one just in case, because even though he trusts Dean he wouldn’t feel comfortable without asking. 

Dean hasn’t moved from where he lies all spread out on the couch, legs wide apart and the bulge underneath his boxers looks painfully hard. Castiel climbs on top of him and puts the lube on the floor, holding up the condom between them. 

”We don’t need that,” Dean says immediately, shoving his hand away. ”Or do we?” he adds, and looks pleased as Castiel shakes his head. They reunite in a kiss, even though they both want more. Dean feels pliant underneath Castiel’s fingers, and he gets the feeling that the singer does not want to take the lead this time. His suspicions are confirmed when Dean spreads his legs further and nips at Castiel’s lips before breaking the kiss. 

”So,” he breathes, chest heaving. ”How do you want me?” The words alone are enough to make Castiel’s cock twitch with want, and he pays back by sucking down on Dean’s neck, teeth grazing skin and Dean actually _whimpers_. 

”I want to fuck you so hard that you can’t walk afterwards,” he growls, his possessiveness surprising even himself. 

” _Jesus fucking christ_ ,” Dean groans, and now Castiel can’t wait any longer. He unceremoniously pulls his boxers off, smirking as Dean takes him in with a gasp, and before long Dean’s boxers are discarded as well. He takes a second to admire Dean’s flushed cock, suddenly very keen to know how it feels to have it inside him. He considers asking if they can change positions when Dean suggestively spreads his legs and lets out another little whimper.

” _Cas_ ,” he gets out, desperation thick in his voice. 

Castiel can’t really refuse. 

He picks up the lube from the floor and squirts some onto his fingers, locking his eyes onto Dean’s. 

”Tell me if I need to stop,” he says quietly, and then he is reaching down and circling Dean’s fluttering hole with his index finger. Dean’s breathing is hitched now in anticipation, and Castiel can’t wait any longer. He dips one finger inside, appreciating how Dean clenches around him and he takes the first finger like a champ, already panting for more. Castiel adds a finger that makes Dean’s already labored breathing heavier, and he is worried that he is going to have a heart attack. Before he can ask, Dean grabs his arm and starts rolling his hips down. 

”More, Cas, please,” he croaks. Castiel kisses the words away and adds a third finger, hooking and scissoring them to stretch him out, and before long Dean is begging for more. 

”I’m ready, just fuck me.” 

Castiel can’t really refuse. 

He pulls his fingers out, his heart tugging at the sound Dean makes at the loss of them, and is quick to lube up his painfully hard cock before he lines it up with Dean’s entrance. 

”Ready?” he whispers, and as Dean nods frantically he starts out by pushing the head of his cock past the rim, the sudden tightness around him sending a shudder through his body.

Underneath him, Dean’s eyes are clamped shut and he has one hand around Castiel’s neck, the other gripping the couch tight. Castiel wants to kiss him, but right now it takes all of his strength not to slam into him at once, so he refrains from it for now. Agonizingly slowly he begins to push his way inside, pausing every now and then to catch his breath and let Dean adjust, but soon enough his balls press up against Dean’s ass and he bottoms out. Dean mumbles a string of unintelligible words, and now Castiel allows himself to kiss him. It’s sloppy and messy but still so unbelievably wonderful. 

”I’m gonna move a bit,” Castiel warns, and waits for the nod before he pulls his hips back, the pressure enough to drive him crazy. When he is almost all the way out, Dean lifts his head up and bites his lip, hard, and Castiel reacts by slamming ruthlessly into him. Dean whimpers and presses their lips together, too pulled apart to be able to form a proper kiss and it’s mostly the two of them breathing into each other’s mouths. 

Castiel pulls out for another thrust that has Dean groaning deeply, his fingernails scraping the skin on Castiel’s neck. 

It all goes downhill from there on. Castiel reaches deeper with every thrust, nearly making the couch move from the sheer force, and Dean still keeps begging for more. He grabs one of Dean’s knees and pulls it up with his next thrust, finding a new angle and when he hits that sweet spot Dean cries out his name. He finds it, again and again, and Dean just keeps clenching up around him and it’s almost too much. Pleasure shoots down his spine when Dean scratches his neck again, and he pounds into Dean, his thighs trembling from the effort and he reaches a hand between them, giving Dean’s cock a few strokes which is all he needs to be pushed over the edge. 

Dean clenches up around Castiel when he comes, pure bliss crossing his face and his eyes roll back in his skull. Castiel’s hips manage a few more thrusts before he is coming too, spilling his load inside Dean and the orgasm makes his vision white out for a moment. 

Their heavy breaths is all that can be heard in the room. Dean places a hand on Castiel’s chest, right over his heart, and chuckles softly. 

”Wow.” 

Castiel buries his head in the crook of Dean’s neck, and he can feel his pulse against his temple. 

”I am glad you stayed for a third date,” Castiel mumbles into Dean’s skin, and he can feel a soft rumble as he laughs. 

”Me too.” He shuffles a little and continues, ”And you know the best part?”

”Hmm?” 

He nudges Castiel’s head until he lifts it up enough to see a pizza slice in front of him.

”There’s pizza.” 

Castiel scoffs but dutifully opens his mouth, biting into the cold pizza and it might be the most delicious thing he has ever tasted. 

Besides Dean’s lips, that is. 

They eat and kiss with their mouths stuffed, and it’s a little gross but at the same time Castiel is thoroughly enjoying himself. When there is no more pizza left Castiel collapses on Dean’s chest, propping his chin up on his hand to see Dean’s lovely face. He traces the freckles with a finger, thumbing softly over his swollen lips. 

”Are you happy?” he asks softly. Dean considers the question solemnly, fingers threading through Castiel’s hair. He leans into the touch.

”Right now I really am.” 

”Good.”

Dean smiles and his fingernails dig into Castiel’s scalp.

”And you, angel? Are you happy?”

”As happy as I can ever be,” Castiel replies truthfully. He places one finger over Dean’s windpipe and feels his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. 

”How about a shower?” Dean suggests, and when he moves a little Castiel is suddenly extremely aware of the dried come that is sticking to their stomachs. 

”How about we shower together?”

Dean smiles smugly, but his expression quickly turns bothered when Castiel pulls away and his limp cock slips out, along with some come and lube that he quickly wipes off the couch. He takes Dean’s hand and pulls him along to the nearest bathroom, where they shower until there is no more hot water.

 

It’s still too early to go to bed, so they put on a movie and cuddle up in the couch. Castiel watches the movie this time, only distracted by Dean’s soft snoring as he falls asleep. He wraps his arms around Dean’s torso and something inside him stirs when Dean snuggles against his chest. 

By the time the end credits roll, Dean wakes up disoriented. Castiel has to let go of his hold on him and let him turn around to see him before he settles down again. The movement makes Castiel wonder how many times Dean has woken up in an unfamiliar embrace. He blinks and smiles sweetly, crawling up to peck Castiel’s lips. 

”I fell asleep.” 

”I noticed. You snored a little.”

Dean frowns and sniffs. ”Sorry.”

”Don’t be, it was kind of sweet.” 

Now he rolls his eyes and shuffles some more until he is somehow straddling Castiel. 

”Just wait until I wake you in the middle of the night,” he teases, which makes Castiel warm in all the right places. 

_He wants to stay the night_. 

Castiel lunges up to kiss him, licking at his lips until they part and their tongues collide. It hurts with how much he wants this, how much he already needs Dean. The feeling seems to be mutual, because Dean is already panting against him and his hands are desperately trying to find their way underneath his shirt. 

Castiel breaks the kiss and lets their foreheads crash.

”Bedroom?” he gasps, and Dean nods frantically. They get to their feet and their lips lock, and they are a stumbling, laughing mess as they make their way to Castiel’s room. Castiel guides Dean to the bed and pushes him down, tugging his shirt and pants off, letting his underwear slip down as well. Dean copies his movements, and when Castiel finally climbs onto the bed they are both naked. 

He plants a chaste kiss against Dean’s lips and gives him a look that he hopes can convey all of his feelings for him. 

”What do you want to do this time?” he asks, suddenly keen to find that cardboard box that lies somewhere at the back of his wardrobe. Dean seems to read his mind, because he gets a mischievous expression and squints his eyes.

”You’re thinking of something, right?” 

Castiel bites his lip and only hesitates for a split second before he kisses Dean again and reluctantly leaves his warmth. Walking naked feels a little awkward, but he kneels by the wardrobe and moves a few shoes and pants and there he finds it - the box that he hasn’t touched in quite a while now, but when he opens it the contents look just the same as when he last looked at them. He picks one up, weighs it in his hand, and nearly closes the box before he picks up the second one as well. 

When Dean sees and understands what he is holding, his eyes widen and his pupils seem to eat away at the green of his irises. 

”Butt plugs?” he asks, not reluctantly but not very excited either. Castiel nods and holds them up, two dark blue butt plugs that are quite large. Dean swallows hard as Castiel climbs onto the bed again, showering his chest with kisses. 

”We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. But we could try.” 

”I’m open for everything, dude, I just never thought- but sure. How?” 

Castiel places the plugs on the side of the bed next to the lube that he grabbed as well, and pops it open to spread some onto his fingers. He straddles Dean’s hips and reaches around until he finds his own hole, pressing a finger inside without any other preparation. Dean licks his lips as Castiel starts fucking himself on the one finger, and before long he has added a second, scissoring them frantically because it has been a long time since he had anything up his ass, and longs for the feeling. Once he deems himself stretched enough, he grabs one of the plugs and coats it in lube. Making sure to keep his eyes off Dean he reaches around and pushes the plug against his hole, reveling in the slight burn of it as it pops into place. The acts was enough to make his cock half-hard, and when he finally allows himself to look at Dean he finds that he seems to be as disheveled as Castiel feels. 

”Shit, Cas, that was the hottest thing I have ever seen,” he mumbles, pulling him down for a kiss. Every movement makes the plug move in his ass, just this side of uncomfortable but it’s too pleasurable for Castiel to want to pull it out. 

”Your turn,” Castiel says, but when Dean reaches for the lube, Castiel stops him. ”No, Dean. I’m going to fuck you, and then I’m going to put the plug in.” 

”Oh,” Dean breathes, and it’s all he can do before Castiel has coated his fingers in lube and is already pushing his first digit into his hole. It’s already a bit loose since that afternoon, but Castiel still makes sure to stretch him up nice and wide. Dean’s whitening knuckles against the sheets is all Castiel needs to know that he his enjoying himself, but Dean shows it in more ways than that. 

”Oh, _fuck_ , Cas, that- _shit_ -feels so _good_ ,” he grunts, canting his hips against Castiel’s hand, and when he hooks his fingers he hits his prostate, knowing the instant it happens because Dean tenses up and lets out a breathy moan. 

”Shit, just fuck me,” he gasps. Castiel pulls out his fingers to slick up his cock, and this time he slams all the way in without warning. The plug nudges at his prostate and he groans, wishing that it was bigger, but it will have to do for now. With every thrust into Dean the plug moves, and the stimulation is nearly enough to make Castiel come. Before he lets himself climax, he slows a little and makes sure to angle his hips in that way that makes Dean curl his toes and grip the sheets a little tighter. Just like list time, Castiel takes Dean’s cock in his hand and it only takes four jerks and a twist before Dean is coming, hard, painting his chest and stomach in white stripes. 

He must be clenching deliberately around Castiel, because the pressure is _insane_ and Castiel comes with a cry, burying himself deep inside Dean and he takes hold of his shoulders to drive himself deeper, to feel more, to fall apart when Dean milks his cock until his nerves are screaming at him to stop. 

Castiel’s hips stutter and he stills, feeling a little light-headed as he tries to get enough oxygen into his lungs. 

Dean has flung an arm over his eyes and with how unsteady his breathing is Castiel is a little worried about him. He presses a kiss to the nape of his neck and pulls his cock out, both of them wincing at the feeling. 

”Dean? May I?” Castiel asks, and he mumbles something that can only be deciphered as a yes. Castiel practically drowns the plug in lube before he gently puts it against Dean’s hole, and when he doesn’t protest, he pushes it in place. He then grabs his discarded t-shirt and wipes the remaining come away, taking care to clean Dean’s cock as well. 

Once they are both clean Castiel tosses the shirt away and shuffles into place next to Dean, who is still covering his eyes with his arm. 

”You are worrying me,” Castiel whispers, wondering what he did wrong. If the plug was too much. Maybe he should just put them both away and never open that damn box again-

”I’m sorry, I just-” Dean starts, and bites his lip when his voice cracks. ”I’m a bit overwhelmed by all this. You’re just so _goddamn_ perfect, and I can’t-” 

He takes a shaking breath and finally removes his arm so Castiel can see his eyes. His candy-apple green eyes that shine brighter than actual sunshine. 

”I can’t be worthy of this. There’s just no way I deserve someone like you.” 

Castiel can’t even begin to pretend that he knows what he is talking about, but he gives him a kiss nonetheless. 

”I choose you,” he says, and there’s something about those words that makes the uncertainty in Dean’s face soften and fade away. 

”Damn it,” Dean smiles, and drowns Castiel in the next kiss. Every time he shifts his hips the plug moves and nudges at his oversensitive hole, but Castiel loves it. Dean seems to notice it as well when he makes a swift move and suddenly hisses, his entire body freezing up. 

” _Shit_.”

”You certainly curse a lot,” Castiel comments, which makes Dean chuckle and relax. 

”I am a rock star,” he teases. 

They talk a little longer, then they somehow make it to the bathroom to brush their teeth - Dean gets a new toothbrush that Castiel finds in one of the drawers - before they return to the bed, crawling under the covers completely naked. Castiel snuggles up against Dean’s side, enjoying how his arms automatically wrap around him, and he knows that he will sleep well like this, his nose buried in Dean’s scent and his body surrounded by his warmth. 


	6. Ten days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm having a bit of a rough time with this, hope it turned out alright anyways. Kudos and comments are always appreciated! xx

Dean wakes up knowing that it’s way too early for him to have woken up by his own. He groans deeply and shuffles about, a sharp flash of pleasurable pain spreading from his ass when the butt plug moves a little. He shifts his hips just to feel it again, and gasps at the sensation. 

Only then does he notice that Cas is humping against his thigh, his semi-hard cock begging for friction. Blood rushes to Dean’s groin and he fumbles closer to Cas until their erections collide and Cas lets out the most delicious sound. 

”Dean,” he sighs, which makes Dean light-headed in all the right ways. He finds Cas’s lips with his own, and only then does the blue eyes open and smile at him. 

”Morning,” he rasps, voice laced with gravel and sleep. Dean kisses him sloppily and slots one leg in between Cas’s, scooting closer and closer until their cocks line up and Cas reaches down to grab them with his hand. Thrusting into the hot, tight tunnel alone would have been enough to make Dean come, but along with the plug in his ass that adds that little extra pressure to his prostate he reaches his orgasm embarrassingly soon. Cas uses his come to lube up his own cock, and when he tugs a little at Dean’s oversensitive balls Dean actually cries out. 

”Straddle me, Dean. I want to fuck you again,” he growls, the order explicitly clear and Dean knows that he won’t refuse. On trembling legs he crawls up along Cas’s body until his knees are side by side with Cas’s waist, his still hard cock standing proudly in anticipation. Cas runs his fingers down Dean’s back and all the way down to his ass, where he gives the firm muscles a little squeeze before he finds the handle of the plug and coaxes it out, thrusting it back in a few times which makes Dean sob in desperation. 

Once the plug is all the way out, Cas’s strong hands guide Dean’s hips down, and in one swift movement Dean is filled up again, the width of Cas’s cock causing a pleasant burn to spread up Dean’s spine. He has already falling in love with this feeling, of having Cas so deep inside him and the way their bodies adapt to one another. Even though he is still exhausted from his last orgasm, he starts rocking his hips back and forth, fucking himself on Cas’s cock and his own limp erection is starting to fill again. 

Cas meets his hips on every roll, and Dean can see the moment he is about to come, how he shuts his eyes and opens his mouth in a soft ’o’, so Dean clenches around him and helps him over the edge. His cock pulsates in Dean’s ass, filling it with come and it’s insanely hot. 

When Cas’s hands fall from Dean’s hips he stills his movements and reaches a hand up to thumb at Cas’s lips. The expression on his face is one Dean cherishes deeply, and he wishes that he could take a photo of it to make the fleeting moment more permanent somehow. 

Cas makes him want to write songs again, it’s been a while since he felt like that. Every creative, poetic part of his brain conjures up words and tunes and he can’t wait to get his hands on a guitar. 

For now though, he settles for watching Cas compose himself after his orgasm. How his breathing slows down, and the lines on his forehead smooths out. When he huffs a quiet laugh and puts a hand on Dean’s thigh, stroking the skin slowly. He wants to stay like this forever, but that thought alone reminds him of what will happen next Thursday. That he doesn’t live in Lawrence anymore, but on the road. In a cramped bus with four men and two women. 

He devours Cas with a kiss and hopes that he can’t feel the sorrow through it, then he lifts himself up and lets Cas’s limp cock slide out. He takes some time to pull the plug out of Cas’s ass as well, teasing him only a little by driving it in a few times. 

”Let’s take a shower,” he mumbles, and together they stumble to the bathroom. The water is hot and refreshing, and they take turns getting each other cleaned up. Dean blushes a little when Cas makes him turn around to clean out come and lube from his hole, but he supposes that what little was left of his pride has already crashed and burned. And Cas is gentle with him, feather light touches ghosting Dean’s skin. 

In return, Dean shampoos Cas’s hair, but before he can rinse it out he sort of freezes with his fingers buried in the black nest. 

”Cas,” he says softly. There is something that he has to say, something that he has been postponing because there are ten days left and he shouldn’t be thinking about this now, but-

”What is it?”

”We have to talk. About what will happen next Thursday.”

Cas leans into his touch and hums softly.

”What will happen next Thursday?”

He is still happy, content, and it hurts that Dean has to break that happiness. He swallows past the lump in his throat.

”I’m going on tour.”

It’s like Lisa all over again when Cas’s face falls and he pulls away. 

”Right,” he says, voice suddenly colder, just like the water that is dripping down Dean’s shoulders. Dean wants to bring out the smile again, so he lifts a hand to caress Cas’s jaw. 

”I- I knew that. Of course I did, I just hadn’t thought about it,” Cas mumbles. Dean turns the water off and the sudden cold wind makes them both shudder. 

”But hey, it’s not until next Thursday, and today’s only Tuesday.”

Cas smiles sadly and looks up at Dean through his lashes.

”We met less than a week ago,” he comments, which comes as a bit of a shock to Dean. He leans in for a kiss and is pleased when Cas doesn’t refuse it. 

”I don’t know how I’ve ever been able to live without you. And I never want to do it again.” 

”Dean-”

”I’m serious, Cas. I understand if you want to back out, and I won’t hold it against you if you do. But I believe that we can make this work. The first leg of this tour is two months, then we’re coming back here for a two-week break before we start the second leg. That one will go around Kansas only, for one month, so you could join us if you want to. Then it’s a two-week break before we go to Europe, but-”

”Dean,” Cas interrupts again, this time with a hint of a smile ghosting his lips. They stand less than a foot apart, completely naked, yet Dean has never felt more comfortable than right now. Cas brings his arms up around Dean’s shoulders and the fingers of his left hand start playing with Dean’s hair. 

”I chose you, remember? I know what I’m getting myself into.”

_No, you really don’t_ , Dean wants to say, but all he can do is smile and kiss him. Kiss him breathless, and maybe he can ignore the fact that he is going to mess this up, just for a little while longer. 

 

Dean blinks and suddenly it’s Wednesday night. The last week has certainly been one of the best of his life - he has been avoiding the public as much as possible, spending all his hours either with Cas or at the hotel that he was talked into staying at. The bed is not as comfortable as the one at Cas’s house, but the poor guy deserves _some_ alone time. Like, one or two nights, at least. Dean doesn’t want to crowd him (actually he really does, but he won’t), so he leaves every now and then to get a fresh change of clothes and whatnot.

He goes to spend some more time with Bobby as well. Never before has Dean paid any attention to his uncle’s greying hair and stiff joints, but when he can barely unscrew a tire bolt it gets Dean worried. Bobby is getting old, which is heartbreaking and terrifying and a part of life. 

However, most of the time Dean waits for Cas to get off from work. He paid a visit to the orphanage the other day, much to Cas’s coworker Anna’s delight. The kids barely got a chance to talk to him with how she trailed him like a dog. 

And _Cas_ , fucking hell. Dean must have lost his mind somewhere on the last tour because Cas cannot be real. He is a complete dork, incredibly ignorant of common knowledge which makes Dean’s head explode on a regular basis (”It’s _Elvis_ , Cas, how can you _not_ have heard of him?”). Most importantly, he makes Dean laugh. Often without intending to, but he can just blurt out a random fact that has Dean giggling and all the tension that has been stored in his body since Lisa just seeps out. He feels so happy, so, _so_ happy, waking up next to blue eyes, giving blow jobs underneath the covers, getting fucked four times in one evening, but mostly it’s the everyday things that has him lightheaded - making breakfast together, watching the news with his feet in Cas’s lap, even doing the dishes (which he hasn’t grown tired of yet). 

He realizes it one morning, when he pours them both a cup of coffee and adds a sugar cube to Cas’s, that he is acting like they have known each other for years. That he has always had to push Cas out of bed in the mornings and make him toast with cheese and honey, that this tradition is more than two weeks old. Honestly, he doesn’t understand how Cas could ever get to work on time with how slow he is _every morning_. 

This is the first time that he doesn’t look forward to going on tour. He’s always loved it, despite how uncomfortable the bunk beds in the bus can be sometimes, and all the crappy food and Jo snoring and nearly fainting after shows when he’s been up there in the heat for too long. 

He even loved it when he was with Lisa, when he missed her and Ben, back then he still preferred being on the road. 

Now he dreads it. Time is slipping out from underneath his feet and Cas can probably feel it too, he must feel it when Dean hugs him for just a little too long, kisses him one extra time before they part. Two months isn’t _that_ long. It will be over in a flash, and Dean will have the time of his life like he always does, but he knows that a part of him will always be longing for Cas. For raven-black-hair and ocean-blue-eyes and canine-teeth-smiles. For the way Cas looks at him when he tells him something important, how he focuses all of his being on Dean. Being listened to, and gaining enough trust to allow Cas to open up in return. 

”Penny for your thoughts,” Cas whispers. Dean responds by kissing him breathless, failing at trying to keep the desperation out of it. 

”Aren’t my thoughts worth a bit more than a penny?” he jokes, which makes Cas’s beautiful eyes roll in exasperation. 

”Fine, a dollar.”

Dean forces a smile, he has to, because Cas looks so happy to be lying next to him with one hand on the side of his neck, absently playing with his hair. 

”I’m going to miss you,” he says instead of sharing the heart-wrenching fear of leaving that he really feels. Because when he leaves, things will suddenly be a hundred times more difficult. 

He will forget how Cas’s skin feels underneath his fingers. How his laughter sounds when his voice is all raw in the mornings. 

”It’s only for two months,” Cas tries, but both of them know that two months is a _long_ time.

”I’ll call you.”

”Every day.”

They find comfort in the small lie. 

Cas presses their lips together in an almost urgent way, and Dean lets him, he lets him taste his lips and tongue and it’s sort of gross but sort of awesome at the same time. 

Dean bottoms that night too. They have stuck to the same arrangement every time (which is quite a lot of times now, actually), but Dean is enjoying himself far too much to want to top instead. Maybe in two months. Anyways, he comes untouched with Cas pounding into him at such a ruthless pace that he actually feels lightheaded afterwards. Much like when it gets too hot on stage. 

Well, not quite like how it is on stage. But still. Kind of. 

Dean spends the night awake with Cas nuzzling into his chest, his soft breaths hitting Dean’s skin every few seconds. It’s heaven, and it’s worth it when morning comes and his eyes burn from lack of sleep. 

He really doesn’t want to leave. But Benny calls him and tells him to get his ass to the bus, Charlie calls him and wonders where the hell he is, Jo calls him and says that they will leave without him. Balthazar doesn’t give a fuck. He will wait for Dean for a week if that’s needed. 

”Call me when you get there?” Cas asks as Dean struggles to put his shoes on. His eyes are stinging because of how tired he is. That’s definitely the reason. It has to be, because otherwise-

”Either that or I’ll send you a text, seeing how late I’m gonna be there might not be time for a phone call.”

”Okay,” Cas replies sadly. Dean kisses him again. Puts his coat on, locates the car keys. Gives Cas a kiss. 

”I’ll miss you.”

”I already miss you,” Cas retorts, and immediately puts a hand over his eyes. ”You really, _really_ are a romantic. I think it’s starting to rub off on me.”

Dean lets out a soft chuckle and gives him one more kiss. Just one more, while he still can. 

 

Cas isn’t there to wave him off. It was something Lisa and Ben always did, but then again, the press knew about them. Dean hasn’t even mentioned the fact that if they are serious about this, that if their relationship is more or less permanent, there will come a day when Cas will sort of have to talk to the press. If there is one thing that Dean has learned, it is that he always has to be one step ahead of all the rumors. 

_Fucking journalists._

”You love them, Dean. Whatever you’re thinking about right now, remember that you like the press,” Charlie butts in sternly. 

Did he really say that out loud? 

”Yeah,” Dean sighs. They have been on the road for less than ten minutes and Dean already wants to go back. Cas had looked so when he left him there on the porch, one hand up to wave goodbye and Dean had to stop around the corner to stave off the tears. 

Two months. He can do this. 

”Guys? I have something to say,” Dean announces to the little group. They haven’t spread out quite yet, Balthazar, Benny, Jo and Charlie are all crammed into the two couches while Kevin sits up front with Chuck. Dean leans against one of the cabinets and takes a deep breath while they all observe him closely. 

”What have you done this time?” Jo groans, which makes them all laugh. Well, everyone but Dean, that is. 

”Shut up, Jo. I-”

_Why is this so difficult? Just spit it out._

”I met someone while we were in Lawrence, and-”

Balthazar immediately interrupts with, ”Let me guess, a skinny blonde with two double D’s who _swears_ that she doesn’t _care_ that you’re a famous singer, she just fell for your pretty green eyes?” He bats his eyelids at Dean and puffs out his chest, and it’s ridiculous and something that would have made Dean laugh in high school, but right now he just wants to punch him in the face. 

”No, you moron, it’s a guy called Cas who has never heard of me.”

Jo exclaims, ”A _guy_? Holy fuck-”

At the same time that Balthazar says, ” _Oh,_ he didn’t know who you were?”

They jump into silence when Benny slams a large hand onto the table. It creates a sound so loud that the bus swivels a little and Kevin sticks his head out from the driver’s compartment. 

”Everything okay?” he says, when he can surely see that it isn’t. 

”Yeah, Kev, I’ll fill you and Chuck in later,” Dean mutters. Kevin lingers for a few more seconds before he shrugs and disappears again. 

Balthazar is the first to break the silence. ”It’s amazing, Dean, really, that you once again managed to find someone who doesn’t listen to our music-” 

Benny hits him on the side of the head. 

”Benny-” Dean tries, but the look he gets is enough for his voice to fade out. 

”No, shut up,” he points at Dean, ”And shut up,” his finger moves to Balthazar, ”And shut up,” and lastly to Jo. When he turns to Charlie, she holds her hands up in a _I-didn’t-do-anything_ -gesture, which she really didn’t, so Benny leaves her alone. ”Balthazar, you’re a fucking asshole. Grow up,” he growls, his voice softening only a little when he turns to Jo. ”Jo, I don’t want to hear any comments about being gay from _you_ out of all people.” Jo tries to speak up, but he only needs to hold up a finger to make her bite her tongue. ”And Dean? We’re just worried about you, brother, with how things ended with Lisa, and Cassie, and-”

”Are you done?” Dean interrupts coldly. He should be grateful that Benny is standing up for him, but hell, the things he is bringing up just-

”Yeah, brother. I’m done.” 

”Good.” 

Dean wipes a hand over his face, wants to say something more, but ends up shutting himself into the bedroom. 

He wants to call Cas, but he will have left for work by now. With an unhappy exhale he lies on the bed and shuts his eyes, wishing that they could be in Lincoln already. 


	7. It's called the internet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a short chapter, hope you like it! The next one will be longer, promise xx

Castiel wouldn’t go as far as to say that he is _miserable_ , because he has lived for 33 years without knowing Dean, and he has been able to exist without Dean’s presence, but still. 

He misses him. 

Dean left Thursday morning for Lincoln, Nebraska, and he won’t be back for 64 days. 

So, all Castiel has to do now is act like he did before he met Dean. 

The thing is, he doesn’t quite know how to do that. 

Gabriel chuckles at him and offers him a chocolate bar, Anna is a bit upset that she didn’t get to say goodbye to Dean, Jody is surprisingly understanding, but the one person who really, _really_ listens to and understands him is Claire. 

”Shit, you actually love him, don’t you?” is the first thing she says when Castiel explains that Dean has left. He frowns at her and is about to say a blunt ”no”, but he can’t make himself do it. Of course he doesn’t love Dean, but he doesn’t _not_ love him either, so. He doesn’t say anything. 

”It’s two months, by the time he comes back I will have turned eighteen. Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”

”You seem happy, Claire,” says Castiel, as a way of changing the subject. She probably sees right through him, but allows it, for now. 

”I am. I really like Jody.” Her eyes widen a little and she points a finger at him threateningly. ”Don’t tell her I said that.”

”I might remind her of it when you yell at her for making you do the dishes.” 

”Yeah,” she scoffs. 

Castiel likes Claire. He likes her focus, her loyalty, her will to do good. She has already asked him for a job at the Seraph’s, which is a huge improvement from last month when she raided grocery stores with Randy. Just as he is about to compliment her for how much she has grown as a person, she brings up Dean again and Castiel has to bite back his words. 

”So, have you googled him yet?” she asks. The question confuses him and he knows that he is tilting his head when Claire rolls her eyes and reaches for his pocket to pull out his phone. ”Well, I did, last night. You should keep track of your boyfriend, Cas.”

Dean calls him Cas too. Castiel has never noticed how Claire does it with a small smile and a fond expression in her eyes. He wonders what that means, exactly. 

”Why would I google him?” 

He doesn’t object to the term ”boyfriend”. Not that he knows what they are, exactly. 

”Because it’s kind of awesome that your boyfriend is like _the_ best singer in the world? Come on, at least look at some of the videos on youtube, it’s really-”

”Claire, I am not going to ”google” Dean. I would feel like I am invading on his privacy, especially when he has so clearly explained that he enjoys spending time with me because of how little I know about him already. He can tell me things without me already knowing them. How would you feel if you were famous and no one would ever listen to you talk about yourself because they already know everything?”

”Sorry, all I heard was ”if you were famous”, and I got stuck there.” She shoves him playfully and tosses his phone in his direction. ”Fine, I get it. But when you get too lonely, remember that there are thousands of videos of your hot boyfriend/singer sweating on a stage without a shirt on.” 

Castiel gives her a bewildered look that makes her laugh, that low, raspy laugh that sounds so much like her. He shakes his head in exasperation and clasps his fingers around her shin, squeezing it a little which brings out a strange expression on her face that he hasn’t seen before. It could be a mixture of sadness and happiness, if that would make any sense, but it’s gone with the blink of an eye when Claire meets his eyes. 

”You remind me of my dad,” she mumbles, which is a topic that Castiel would really like to know more about, but he can’t ask her because he knows that she will shut down if he does. Instead he squeezes a little harder and offers her a smile. It’s a small gesture, but she seems to appreciate it. 

Shortly after that, she kindly tells him to leave her alone (”Get the fuck out of here”), which he of course does (after sharply reminding her that curses are not allowed in the house). He spends some time looking after Samandriel while Donna helps Alfie in the kitchen, breaks up yet _another_ fight between Ruby and Meg, and ends up in the office to get some paperwork done. Quite a lot of paperwork, unfortunately.

It’s hours later when Gabriel finds him in there, elbows deep in work. 

”Knock knock,” he says on the way inside. 

”Who’s there?” Castiel replies tiredly, never taking his eyes off the document in front of him. It’s an estimated cost for the renovations of the second floor, and it’s not _that_ much money but it will leave a dent in the for-once smoothly-running orphanage’s economy. Castiel will have to open up his fund again, which means that he will have to go to the bank, and-

”Doctor,” says Gabriel, unknowingly interrupting Castiel’s line of thought. He looks up from the desk and sees his friend with a shit-eating grin that most likely means that he has something planned. 

”Doctor who?” Castiel replies, and immediately covers his eyes with his hands. Gabriel’s love for the British tv-show has not gone unnoticed by, well, _anyone_. ”That was the worst knock-knock joke ever,” sighs Castiel, but he opens his eyes with a smile. 

”Aww, I made it smile. Come on, let’s go. My apartment. You, me, Anna. Doctor Who and popcorn, what could possibly go wrong?”

(The last time Gabriel said those words, Castiel ended up in the hospital getting stitches, while Anna’s hair was dyed blue. Gabriel somehow managed to come out on the other side completely unharmed.)

”I’m not really up for it,” says Castiel, which is the truth. They are his two best friends, but tonight he would like to be alone. 

”Cassie, Cassie, Cassie-” Gabriel starts ranting, but he actually stops when he sees Castiel’s pleading expression. ”Fine. Mope all you want. Come find us when you run out of ice cream,” he mutters, already walking away. 

”You’re a great friend,” Castiel calls after him. 

”And you’re a piece of shit. Love you,” Gabriel’s voice calls back, and it’s all Castiel needs to know that they are okay. 

 

By the time he is home, it’s late enough for him to not want to look at the time. He should really stop working overtime, but it’s so difficult getting work done during the days when he wants to spend time with the kids, so. Here he is, unlocking his door in near-darkness and making his way into the empty house. 

Maybe he should get a dog. Or a cat. Definitely a cat. One that could come and greet him every time he came home. 

”That would be nice,” he says to no one. 

He makes dinner out of leftovers, eats on his own by the kitchen table, puts the dishes in the dishwasher, remembers Dean’s joy from doing the dishes the other day, and does them by hand instead. It’s quite comforting, actually, to soak his hands in soapy water and clean up after himself. Not something he would do every day, but maybe once in a while he should let the dishwasher rest. Let himself remember how such a mundane act can be enjoyable. 

It’s not until he lies in bed with a pillow propped underneath his head that he grabs his phone and opens that _damn_ google page.

He will regret this. He just knows it. But curiosity has the upper hand, and he types in ”Dean Winchester” in the white little search bar. 

Wikipedia is the top result. Now he is already in too deep to go back. 

 

_Dean Winchester (born January 24, 1979) is an American singer and guitarist, best known as the frontman of_ _the Archangel’s Revenge_ _. Winchester’s career bloomed in 2005, when his best-selling song_ _Carry On My Wayward Son_ _reached the top of_ _Billboard_ _’s_ _Hot 100_ _and stayed there for a record-breaking 20 weeks._

_-Early Life_

_-Career_

_-Personal Life_

_-Discography_

_-Awards and nominations_

_-See Also_

_-References_

_-External Links_

 

Castiel shuts the page down before he can click on the ”Early Life” and ”Personal Life” links. He is _exceedingly_ curios, but he can’t do this to Dean. 

Instead, he opens youtube to look for the bespoken videos of a shirtless Dean that Claire had mentioned. 

 

During the following days, Castiel spends an embarrassing amount of time on his phone, checking youtube, blogs, a place called _tumblr_ that he quickly shut down after he found a drawing of a _naked_ Dean (not before he noted how accurate the drawing was in terms of size and shape and-). It is probably then that he realizes just how famous Dean really is. Like, _everyone-knows-who-he-is_ -famous. He can’t help but think back on that poor girl in the Starbucks shop who thought that he was crazy for not recognizing the singer. Well, now he sort of understands why. 

_The Archangel’s Revenge_ has a twitter account with 5,3 _million_ followers. It’s overwhelming, to say the least. During his encounters with the band’s fans, their history, seeing them on stage (he still hasn’t listened to Dean sing - he wants to hear it in person first), the one thing that sticks to his mind is how unworthy he feels of all this. That Dean would choose him, out of all the people he has met, is beyond his comprehension. 

Then his phone rings, and he sees the caller ID, and all the doubts vanish. 

”Hello, Dean.” 


	8. On Tour (part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY it's been so long, but here is an extra long chapter for you, part 2 is coming up as soon as I finish it! Tell me what you think of it xx

_Lincoln_

Balthazar treats him with a little more chill after what went down in the tour bus 10 minutes after their departure from Lawrence, but Dean has other things on his mind. In a few hours they will reach Lincoln, and he has to focus. He has to _not_ think about Cas right now. He hasn’t played or sung in front of a crowd for 12 months, and his nerves are playing ping-pong in his skull. 

_You can do this_. 

5,3 million people follow their twitter, surely that means that he has a decent voice? That they aren’t just coping with him to hear Balthazar’s sick guitar-riffs, Benny’s heart-throbbing bass or Jo’s incredible beat? Surely, the response he gets from the fans means that he can actually sing? 

”How are we doing back here?” exclaims Charlie, quite happily, but then again, she always sounds cheerful. 

”I might throw up on you if you get too close,” mumbles Dean. He can feel her coming closer, and the way the bed dips suggests that she just sat on the edge of it. Sure enough, when he opens his eyes, he can see her slender form smiling down at him. 

”That bad?”

”It’s fine, Charlie. Really. I just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

”So Cas is a party guy? Figures-” 

Dean actually laughs at that, and he is at once grateful to Charlie for checking on him. She always knows how to cheer him up. 

”I really don’t think so. But I haven’t asked.” Charlie looks at him serenely and scoots up on the bed until she is lying next to him, inches apart. 

”Tell me about him.”

And he does, _god_ , poor Charlie, he never shuts up. He talks and talks and he feels like crying because he doesn’t want to be here in this stupid tour bus on his way on this stupid tour, he wants to be at Cas’s house, in his bed, preferably, and watch some crappy movie and complain about the popcorn kernels at the bottom of the bowl. 

They talk for hours, Charlie taking over the conversation somewhere along the way and starts going on about how she is head over heels for Jo but doesn’t know if Jo feels the same way (this part is spoken quietly, only an inch from Dean’s ear, in a vulnerable whisper that makes Dean’s heart ache because she trusts him this much). 

Jo is the one to come tell them that they have reached the venue. She opens the foldable door, gets one look at Charlie (who by now is wrapped up in Dean’s arms), and her eyes instantly turn cold. Dean doesn’t read into it too much, because Charlie is the furthest from straight that any person could possibly be, and Dean is quite dubious about his own sexuality as well, so the mere _idea_ that the two of them could have something going on is just laughable. 

”We’re almost there,” she says shortly and leaves before they can reply. Dean shrugs helplessly and looks down on Charlie, who feels so fragile in his arms compared to Cas’s muscular body. He presses a kiss to the top of her head before he scrambles out of bed and stretches out the kinks in his back. 

”Ready for tonight?” asks Charlie, which brings back the earlier doubts about his - well, about everything that is Dean Winchester - and he would have broken down sobbing on the floor if it hadn’t been for his sheer stubbornness. 

”Not really. It’s been so long since I was up there, and I just-”

He can’t make himself say the words out loud. 

”You wonder if you are good enough?” Charlie chimes in, upon which Dean nods sheepishly. With a determined face she grabs his hand and holds it tight. ”You’re the best, Dean. And you’re the only one who can do this, who can be the front-figure of this band, and the fans love you. Please don’t make me find a new lead singer, that would be such a pain in my ass.”

He smiles at that, despite everything, and rolls his eyes. 

”I won’t.”

”Promise?” He takes the pinkie that she holds up and hooks it in his own. 

”Promise.” 

Setting up the stage was Dean’s favorite part of the show back when they didn’t have seventeen crewmen running around and doing it for them. Dean still likes to watch the process, and lend a helping hand wherever he can, just to feel like he has contributed. Most of the time they just think that he is in the way, but hey, he pays their salaries so they make sure to keep him entertained. 

The line from the entrance is already hundreds of yards long. They drove past it on the way in, and only the most hardcore fans recognized the bus and started cheering. Dean felt like opening a window to greet them, but Balthazar had been sitting right next to him and he has never approved of Dean’s interaction with the crowd. Best not to upset him this early on. 

Once the stage is set up, the rest of the band arrives for a soundcheck that lasts _forever_ , because Balthazar’s guitar won’t be tuned just right, Jo breaks the skin of a drum, and Benny keeps yelling at the sound-crew to raise the bass up because he ”can’t hear a fucking thing”. 

All in all, just like before any other concert, along with the fact that they haven’t done this in a while. 

Chuck is exceedingly helpful for once, running around with bottles of water in the scorching sun, and when Dean sends him out to give water to the people standing in line he disappears for almost a full hour. Dean can’t thank him enough. 

The dressing room grows tense as the clock starts counting down. The openers, _Strip It_ , have already hit the stage and the bass and the drum carries into the room. Dean nods his head along, trying to think about anything but the fact that there are thousands of people out there waiting for them. For _him_. 

”Okay, they are off. The crew is changing the gear, you’re up any minute now,” Charlie announces with one finger on the headset that sits neatly on her left ear. 

”Right,” says Dean, because now is the time to give a pep-talk, but he doesn’t have it in him. ”Right. Let’s go kick some ass.”

His three band-members cheer and high-five and when Charlie opens the door to the stage they run out. Dean follows them in a much slower pace, because this is how they rehearsed it, the three of them get up first, start playing the first song (Lucifer’s Hands, just because it is a great way to get the crowd to warm up), and then Dean comes on just in time for the first verse. He’s not overly fond with the plan, but hey, if Charlie says that it will work, who is he to question her? 

The cheers are deafening as the band reveals themselves, and in two seconds they have started playing. It sounds great, Dean has to admit that much. Jo is nuts on the drums, playing with such enthusiasm that it can be heard through the song. She has never played this good, and they are only 30 seconds in. 

Dean starts climbing the steps up to the stage, getting some slaps on the back and last-minute pep-talks from the crew, and then he is behind the curtain that lines the back, and he steps around it. 

Thousands of faces light up when they spot him, and if the volume was loud before, it’s ear-splitting now. Dean can barely hear the playback in his ears. He quickly turns to Kevin and does the signal for louder volume in his ears, and _there it is_. With a smile he steps up to the microphone stand and waves with both of his hands, feeling that swell of gratitude towards the fans again. 

”How are we doing tonight Lincoln?” he shouts into the microphone, and the cheers somehow grow even louder. The song hits the notes of the first verse, and when he starts singing, everything else seems to fade away.

 

_Omaha_

”I need a new shirt,” Dean gasps as he runs down to the green room behind the stage. His black Led Zeppelin t-shirt is drenched in sweat, and when he finally gets it off and the cool air hits his chest he exhales heavily from the feeling. Charlie holds out a white plain t-shirt, which makes Dean frown a little as he grabs it. 

”White?”

”It’ll reflect the heat from the lights better than a black one, trust me,” she smirks, and hands him a bottle of water that he accepts gratefully. 

”How are we doing?” he asks, and the blinding smile is all that he needs. 

”You rock.” 

 

_Denver_

The room spins around Dean as he opens his eyes. _Shit_ , he feels like _crap_. Every tiny sliver of light burns his brain and he would like to sleep for like, a decade. At least. 

”Good morning sunshine!” Balthazar cheers loudly, and Dean swats his hands away. 

”Go away.”

”Aw, when you’re being so delightfully pleasant? Wouldn’t dream of it, darling,” he continues, and somehow pulls Dean into a sitting position. A glass of water and a pill is held in front of him, so he downs the pill and empties the glass. He feels only a little bit better, but it’s enough, so he opens his eyes properly and surveys the room. Two girls are sleeping on the bed above him, and - hold on-

”Why the fuck did I sleep on the floor?”

”You passed out and I was a bit…preoccupied, to say the least.” Balthazar’s eyes dart to the girls on the bed and Dean groans his disgust.

”Couldn’t you have gone somewhere else?”

”Well, this is my room, so you only have yourself to blame.” 

”Where are we?” Dean asks instead, because now he really needs to wake up. His throat is sore and he probably has last night to thank for that. 

”Denver. We arrived sometime close to midnight, then you and I hit the closest bar. Picked up two _lovely_ girls who-”

”Just shut up. Please,” he adds, patting his pockets and his phone is miraculously still intact. It’s already one pm, the soundcheck is in one hour, and he’ll have to find something to eat, has to figure out _where the fuck he is_ , where Charlie is, where Jo and Benny are, and-

And he has four missed calls from Cas, who he had promised to call that morning. _Damn it_. 

”Come on, say hi to-uh, let’s just call them Tina and Lisa, to make it easier for every-”

”Will you _stop talking_ ,” Dean hisses, because Balthazar is acting like a nineteen-year-old who just lost his virginity and Dean is too hungover to have the energy to deal with him right now. Balthazar actually looks a little dumbfounded by Dean’s harsh tone, but at least he falls quiet. ”I have to call Cas, and we have to find the arena and do soundcheck in one hour. Will you just call us a fucking cab so we can get out of here? And get a hold of Charlie?” 

”Fine, _boss_ ,” Balthazar bites back and rolls his eyes, but before he can say anything else Dean has stepped out of the hotel room and into the looming corridor outside.

Cas answers the phone on the first tone, and Dean just melts when he hears his voice. 

”I’m so sorry I didn’t call this morning, we got here really late and I just woke up and-”

” _It’s okay, Dean. Don’t worry_ ,” Cas smiles through the line. Dean would really like to hug him right now. 

”How are you?” he asks shortly, not knowing quite what to say. Cas sighs a little and seems to look for the right words.

” _I’m okay. Claire and Alex have moved in with Jody, and they are giving her quite a rough time, but I know that she loves them with all her heart. They’ll work it out.”_

He sounds a little tired, which makes Dean wonder-

” _And I miss you_.”

It tugs a little at Dean’s heartstrings (okay, it tugs a _lot_ , and it _hurts_ , but that’s how it’s supposed to be- Right?) to hear him say it. 

”I miss you too, angel.”

” _Tell me how you are doing. Where are you playing tonight?_ ”

”Denver, we were here on the last tour as well. There’s this awesome arena here, one of the smallest ones we play in, but the crowd just feels so much closer somehow, and-”

They talk for way too long and Dean is one hour late for the soundcheck. For once, Charlie doesn’t seem too upset about it. 

 

_Billings_

”We’re gonna play a song from our new album called _We’re Not Alone Anymore_.” 

They cheer in response, and Dean holds his hands up to show that he’s not done talking. 

”For this song, I’m gonna need you all to help me with the chorus. Think you can do that for me?” 

They scream out a surprisingly synchronized ”yes” that has Dean laughing. 

”Alright, alright. It goes like this.”

Balthazar starts playing the familiar tune, and Dean faces him to sing the chorus.

” _Stand up_

_We’re not alone anymore_

_Stand up_

_Look up_

_We’re not alone anymore_

_Look up”_

When it’s done, he turns to the crowd and holds a hand up, and when Balthazar starts playing again he and the crowd sing together. They do it a few more times, then Benny and Jo join in and Dean starts singing the verse. 

When they hit the chorus all of the music stops, and nothing but the crowd can be heard. Dean just watches them in awe, feeling tears burn behind his eyelids because it’s so incomprehensible that those words that he sang to himself in a hotel bathroom are now screamed out by thousands of boys and girls, men and women. 

The song fades out into cheers and applause, and Dean joins in. 

”You guys are so beautiful. Thank you for coming out tonight.” 

 

_Missoula_

”Dean, over here!”

”I’m from the _Missoula Daily_ , do you-”

”Just one question, Mr. Winchester-”

”Balthazar!”

”Ms. Harvelle, how does it feel to-”

”When will you-”

The reporters line the way from the tour bus and into the arena. It’s only one hundred yards or so, but Victor still struggles with keeping them at an arm’s length. Dean is dying to stay behind and talk to them, but last time he did that Balthazar, and even Charlie were quite upset about it. 

”You can’t talk to all the reporters, Dean. We have allowed a select number of magazines and radio stations to interview the band as a whole, and that’s it. There’s not enough time to answer every goddamn question.” 

He still hates the way the others act like the reporters aren’t there. Maybe it’s because he can’t keep the act up, or maybe it’s because he is dying for attention, but he won’t do it. When a reporter steps a little too close and holds out a phone that’s undoubtedly recording, Dean stops dead in his tracks and grins widely. 

”Hey, how you doing?” he asks, and the words are enough to make the rest of the reporters circle him, effectively cutting him off from Victor and the band. He meets Balthazar’s eyes and waves him off, scoffing to himself as the guitarist says something to Victor before they all disappear. 

_Finally_. 

”Alright, alright, give me some space, come on. Everybody take one step back and I’ll answer all your questions, I swear.” 

They respect him enough to do as they are told, and when there is a little circle of free space around Dean he crosses his arms in front of his chest and waits for someone to speak up. When the silence plays on, he raises one eyebrow and turns to one of the reporters, a young guy with long hair pulled back in a bun (he reminds him of Sam a little bit, maybe that’s why he picked him) and nods at him. 

”You there, why don’t you start.”

”Oh, wow, uh-sure. Um, Dean, I’m from the Missoula Rock Center, we’re making a compilation of all the great bands that have played at the Annex, and I was wondering…”

 

_Salt Lake City_

Balthazar isn’t straight out ignoring him, but they aren’t exactly on speaking-terms. They basically only interact when on the stage, and even then, the guy tries to stay as far away from Dean as possible. 

To be fair, Dean _did_ act like a jerk, but he was hungover and tired and he has apologized (after Benny kicked his ass, that is). The problem is that Dean being a jerk isn’t the reason Balthazar is pissed. It’s because Dean keeps insisting on stopping to talk to reporters and fans (today he even went out and talked to people who have been standing in line since yesterday, because seriously - that level of devotion deserves some acknowledgement, and it’s been raining all night). 

Now they are all in the green room, the atmosphere cold and stiff and Dean can’t wait to get up on stage. At least then they can pretend like everything is alright. 

”The crew is changing the gear, you guys are up any minute,” Charlie announces, and fuck it-

Dean pushes his way past all of them, ignores Charlie’s attempts at holding him back, and he walks straight out onto the stage. 

To say that the crowd goes insane would be an understatement. Dean lets them scream on, grabs one of the chairs that _Strip It_ used and pulls it up to the center of the stage where he won’t be in the way for the working crew. Kevin is yelling something in his ear, so he pulls the plugs out, grabs a microphone from one of the crew members and sits down. He has no idea what he is doing, but hopefully he won’t be stopped. 

”Hey guys, how are you all doing?” he asks, and laughs at the response. He clears his throat and turns his gaze down, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sensations. ”I know that this is an odd way to start a show, but I just felt like I had to talk to you for a bit. You see, as some of you know, I visited the guys who had been waiting in line all night.” The house lights are still on, so he squints a little and looks at the faces at the front, pleased when he recognizes a few. 

”There you are,” he chuckles, and points at them. A few of them look about ready to faint. ”And I have to tell you how deeply humbled I am by all this. We are all here tonight for the same reason, and that is our shared love for music. I don’t know about you, but I know that I wouldn’t be alive tonight if it wasn’t for music. So thank you. Thank you so much for keeping this tradition alive, for listening and singing and playing instruments and for being here.” 

There is a cheer, but it’s more sombre now, not as frantic as before. 

Dean opens his mouth as if to say something, but the words get stuck in his throat and he has to swallow the emotions that threaten to pop up. Instead he just takes them in, tries to get eye contact with every person in the crowd, even the ones in the back, and he never wants to stop. A soft chanting starts somewhere off on one of the sides, too far away for Dean to hear, but it soon grows until pretty much everyone is singing the same lines over and over, and Dean can’t do anything but cover his mouth with his hand and listen to them sing.

_Stand up_

_We’re not alone anymore_

_Stand up_

_Look up_

_We’re not alone anymore_

_Look up_

 

_Vancouver I_

” _You did_ what _?_ ” Cas’s voice doesn’t sound upset, not like Sam when he called, or Bobby when he called, or Balthazar when he ranted at him. He just sounds a bit surprised. 

”I’d had a bit of a fight with Balthazar, and I just- I don’t know why. It just felt like the right thing to do. At least Charlie is saying that it was very appreciated.” 

” _I can imagine. I’m proud of you._ ”

Dean scoffs and shakes his head to no one. Well, Jo is snoozing on the couch opposite his, but she doesn’t really count in her current condition. 

”I don’t know, it just felt right, you know? To treat them like ordinary people and not just a large group of…well…you know.” 

” _I really don’t_ ,” Cas chuckles, which just makes Dean’s heart ache a little. They’ve been talking on the phone more or less every day now, recapping what they have done in the last 24 hours, discussing nonsense stuff, listening to each other’s voices. Castiel sounds like freshly ground coffee and melted sugar, rough and smooth and gravelly and it sends shivers up and down Dean’s spine. He misses him, so, so much. 

”So, how was your day?”

” _Ugh, stressful. Meg and Ruby are at each other’s throats constantly, I’m afraid we might have to find a new home for one of them. And I’m worried about Adam, we haven’t seen him for three days_.”

”Whoah, that doesn’t sound too good?” Dean mumbles, feeling his brows push together in worry. 

” _It has happened before, just like with Claire, he is most likely out looking for a place he can call his home once he has to leave us. I might have to ask Jody for another favor._ ” His voice is a little tense, Dean can hear how stressed out he is. He forces a deep breath and hopes that Cas copies him.

”Tell me if there’s anything I can do.”

Cas doesn’t reply to that, so Dean doesn’t push the matter further. His mind is a little distracted, because they have arrived in Vancouver and the soundcheck is any minute now, then he has to get some rest (he feels like he is living on borrowed time, averaging four hours of sleep every night) before it is time for the night’s show. They are doing two shows in Vancouver, one tonight and one tomorrow, and then they are staying for another day to rest up a little. 

” _Oh, I have to tell you. I went back to the Starbucks for breakfast one morning and the same girl was working, and she recognized me.”_

Dean laughs outright at that, remembering the look on her face when Cas had pushed his way past him. He had talked to her for a while after he had left, answering questions and asking her a few ones, her favorite songs, other bands she likes listening to, that sort of thing. It seemed as if she had appreciated it. 

”Tracy,” he blurts once the name pops up. Castiel chuckles softly.

” _Yes, Tracy. She asked me if I have gotten around to listening to your songs.”_

”Well? Have you?” Dean asks immediately, because _boy_ is he curios about this. 

” _I have not. I would like to hear it in person though, if that would be alright._ ”

”I’d love to, really, but I’m already running late to the soundcheck and-”

” _I meant literally in person. When you get back._ ”

”Oh,” he sighs, then, ”Of course,” while he is thinking that he will probably never have the guts to sing in front of Cas’s penetrating blue eyes. Maybe if he keeps his eyes closed? He will have to work on this.

” _You should go to your soundcheck, I don’t want you to be late because of me. I’ll talk to you tomorrow_ _?_ ”

”Yes. Talk to you tomorrow.”

” _Okay. Bye.”_

”Goodbye.”

When Cas ends the call, he leaves Dean hanging with the phone still pressed against his ear and a sense of deep and utter emptiness clinging to the air around him. 

 

_Vancouver II_

They are in the middle of playing _Broken Halo_ , one of Dean’s personal favorites, and he’s hitting those high notes perfectly for once when the room suddenly starts spinning around him. He grabs the microphone stand in blind panic, grounding himself on the unsteady stick while he keeps on singing, eyes rolling in their sockets and it feels as if his brain is about to jump out of his head. The pressure on his chest triples and his lungs seem to constrict, setting light to a fiery pain that spreads throughout his chest with every heartbeat, and he wants to lie down, so badly, but he can’t stop singing. 

When the song is over he darts off the stage and crashes into Charlie who is as shocked as he is by his condition. 

”What’s wrong?” she urges while he finds the door that leads to the cargo bay where they backed the bus in yesterday. He stops as close to the edge as he dares to, doubles over and throws up. 

For how long he stays there he doesn’t know, but soon a comforting hand rubs circles into his back and he feels like he might be able to stand up a little straighter. Charlie keeps him steady with one hand on his back and one on his chest, and then Kevin is there too, holding something plastic that he raises towards Dean’s face. 

”Here, this will make you feel better,” he says softly, putting the oxygen mask over his mouth and nose and Dean breathes in heavily at the sudden rush of air. He chest is heaving of its own accord and he can’t make it stop, can’t do anything but wait out the nausea. 

”What’s happening to me?” he groans once it’s starting to wear off, and he takes over the task of holding the mask in pace. He has felt dizzy before, but never like this.

”Lack of oxygen? Heat stroke? Dehydration?” Charlie suggests, Kevin nodding next to her. 

”All of the above, probably,” he adds helpfully. Dean has just enough strength in his body to give them both a tired look. 

”You two are _so_ helpful,” he almost growls, coughing harshly when the air gets stuck in his throat. Charlie hands him a water bottle that he downs way too quickly, nearly making him want to vomit again, but he keeps it down. She pops open a second one and pours the cold water down his neck and on his head. Before he can protest he realizes that it actually feels damn nice, so he hangs his head forwards and lets the coolness spread. 

”Balthazar is keeping them occupied with some story, there’s no rush,” Charlie explains and he exhales with a short nod, bringing his fingers through his now quite wet hair. 

”I think I need to sit down,” he mumbles, so Kevin grabs his right arm while Charlie grabs his left one, and they steer him towards the bench that lines one of the walls. He puts his elbows on his knees and rests his head in his hands, staying as still as possible until the spinning sensations have worn off. It takes a few moments, but before long he can look up without feeling like he is about to faint. 

”Alright.” He pulls the soaked shirt off and eyes his chest, giving Charlie and Kevin a questioning glance.

”You almost fainted and you still look good enough to go up shirtless. _So_ unfair,” Charlie sighs, which Dean can’t help but laugh at. Kevin hands him a last-minute chocolate bar that he almost swallows whole on the way back to the stage, and then he’s running up just as Balthazar starts playing the familiar riff of _All I Wanted_.

 

_Victoria_

”Okay everyone, this is our last song for the night,” Dean says, wiping some sweat of his brow while he laughs at the crowd’s protests. ”Oh, you know that we would stay all night if we could, but poor Kevin back there with the lights is getting a bit tired,” he teases, and in response all the lights on stage go crazy for three seconds. ”Sorry Kev.” The crowd laughs while he shakes his head and gets into place on the center of the stage, putting the microphone in the stand. They haven’t played _Carry On My Wayward Son_ tonight, which is one of the few songs that they sort of have to play since it was their first great hit. However, Balthazar made it very clear that _he_ wasn’t going to go in for an encore, since they have to pack up and drive as soon as possible and he has a friend in town that he wants to meet. 

So this has to be their last song. Only, they are doing _Broken Halo_ now.

Tonight has been a bit of a mess, Benny and Jo have performed exceptionally well as always, but Dean has been distraught (most likely due to his more than rough night yesterday) and he even forgot the lyrics to one of the songs (the first time it ever happens - he will probably stay up all night thinking about it), and Balthazar has made so many mistakes that Dean is beginning to wonder if it’s on purpose. He’s been interrupting Dean every time he has tried to talk to the crowd, and ”accidentally” pulled a little at his extension chord _just_ when Dean _happened_ to be walking across it, making him stumble. 

Dean shoots a glance at him now, and if he didn’t know better, he’d say that he was drunk. 

Actually, he doesn’t know any better. The guy might have something stronger than water in the bottle behind him. Dean bites back the swell of anger and turns to the crowd again, to the everlasting love that hits him in the face and crushes his bones and as always, makes him ask for more. 

”How are you guys doing, have you had a good time?” he asks, absently adjusting the microphone stand a little even though it’s the perfect height for him. When they fall silent, he adds, ”I know I have. This is our ninth show on the tour, hopefully we’re starting to get the hang of it. Is anyone coming to Seattle tomorrow night?” A few cheers, down the front, and he waves and points at them. ”See you there. And to the rest of you, I-”

Balthazar starts playing the intro to _Broken Halo_. Dean stops talking out of sheer surprise, but he can’t just drop the sentence so he forces himself to ignore the fact that the guitar just gets louder and louder. 

”We are eternally grateful that you wanted to come tonight. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be here. Well, Jo probably would, but that’d be kind of awkward.” They laugh and Jo hits the drums, mouthing ” _very funny”_ at him when he turns around to give her a wink. He doesn’t miss the way she frowns at Balthazar before he faces the crowd again. 

”Anyways. You are a magnificent bunch of people, and-”

” _WE LOVE YOU_!” someone screams, making a short laughter spread.

”Shut up,” Dean grins, makes a short pause, then he whispers, ”I love you too.” He takes a deep breath as they cheer, wipes a hand over his face and adjusts the hem of his shirt a little, knowing that it’s time to start singing but he would really like to talk some more. However, knowing that it would push Balthazar’s buttons even further, he decides not to go there tonight. He is already pissed at the guitarist as it is. 

”Alright. This is _Broken Halo_.”

Jo and Benny join in, perfectly timed, and Dean closes his eyes in wait for them to reach the first verse. He sings with a smile, because the crowd are singing along as if their lives depended on it, and it’s such a beautiful thing. They follow him through the song, screaming in the chorus and in the bridge only Jo keeps playing, letting them clap and sing and Dean just takes the moment to listen, to enjoy this perfection. 

It ends, as everything tends to do, and the band stand side by side and bow to the audience, waving and smiling and applauding and then Dean tears his eyes off the crowd, following Jo to the green room. 

Once they are safely off the stage and the door has been shut behind Benny, Dean turns on Balthazar. 

”What the _hell_ is your problem?” he growls, ripping out the playback-earplugs with way too much force. Silence hits the room as Dean faces Balthazar, who is swaying a little on his feet. 

”What is _your_ problem?” he retorts, giggling a little. 

Okay. He is most definitely drunk. 

”You. You are my problem. You’re acting like a spoiled child with his head up his ass. Why is it so difficult for you to let me talk to the crowd? It’s not like it’s affecting _you_.”

”But it _is_. It is affecting me, because I have to stand on that bloody stage and listen to you talk about _feelings_ and _emotions_ , and all that bullcrap. This is rock music, Dean, not some boy-band for girl scouts with wet panties. I thought we were here to play music?” 

Dean wants to hit him, which Benny seems to sense, because before Dean can make a move he has stepped in between them and gives Dean a stern look (that also says ”I want to punch him too but we both know that that will not make things any better”). Frustrated, Dean backs away and forces a breath, punching all of the air out of his lungs. 

The he hears it. The closed door to the stage isn’t enough to hold back the voices, the thousands of people that are singing together, and an instant calm reaches Dean’s chest. He closes his eyes and listens. 

_Carry on my wayward son_

_There’ll be peace when you are done_

_Lay your weary head to rest_

_Don’t you cry no more_

Balthazar is saying something, he is still arguing, so Dean harshly grabs the front of his shirt and drags him to the door, where he points a finger towards the stage. 

”That right there. That’s why we are here. We are here to play music _to them_ , to make a show _for them_ , the thousands of people out there that are singing our song. Why do you refuse to understand that?” he says, surprising himself with how calm he sounds. Balthazar is quiet for a little under two seconds before he snorts, pulls himself free and storms away. Without looking back, Dean opens the door and returns to the stage, grabbing a guitar on the way. 

The microphone still stands where he left it, so he plants his feet wide apart and starts playing that tell-tale intro, the reason he is there at all. 

 

_Seattle_

Balthazar shows up the next day for soundcheck, surprising the entire crew. When Dean tries to apologize, it’s as if he is invisible. Oh well. At least he is there, and at least he plays the entire show (including the encore).

 

_Portland_

Dean can’t find the time to call Cas until after the show, and by then it’s pretty much midnight and he doesn’t want to risk waking him. He sends a text instead, a stupid, short text that only says ” _thinking about u today, I miss u_ ”, and he wants to delete it the instant he has hit the send button, but it will have to do. 

 

_San Francisco I_

”Look at what the cat dragged in!” Jo exclaims as Sam ducks his head to fit into the tour bus. Dean pushes him inside further, making him fold his long legs underneath the tiny table between the two couches, then squeezes himself in beside Jo. His brother wears an easy-going grin and instantly leans over the table to catch up with Jo, trading a few stories and bantering like always. Dean feels like ruffling both of their hair. 

He has spent the entire morning with Sam, and he didn’t know how much he needed it until now. He loves his fellow band-members and the crew, but they don’t quite fit in to the ”family”-category. Well, at least not all of them. Some of them are damn close. 

But _Sam_ , Sam is so close to being a certified lawyer that he can taste it, Sam loves nothing more than listening to Dean whine about missing Cas and being annoyed by Balthazar, because to him that just means that he is trusted. 

Hours had felt like minutes. Dean is almost a little jealous to be sharing him now, but he knows that Jo deserves a visit from the moose as well. The three of them chatter about everything and nothing, drum sticks and what tie color is the best and how long Sam’s hair is and the fact that Dean is in a semi-stable relationship. Semi, because it’s been a months since he last saw Cas and he honestly has a hard time figuring exactly where they stand. He wouldn’t be surprised if he came back only to find out that Cas doesn’t want anything to do with him anymore (well, surprised, yes, upset, _hell_ yes, but he would still understand it). 

There is one topic that is looming at the back of all of their heads, and it just can’t seem to make it to the surface. Every time it is quiet for more than one second, Dean thinks that this time, this time one of them will say it, but they don’t and he is beginning to realize that he will just have to do it. 

”And she ended up taking me to a yoga class,” Sam says, finishing a story about his girlfriend, Jessica, who Dean has not yet had the fortune to meet. 

”Yoga?” Jo frowns, making Sam roll his eyes and it’s such a familiar gesture that Dean didn’t know that he had missed it. 

”Yeah, you know, Sammy’s into tofu and green things and all that,” Dean scoffs, making them all chuckle.

There it is. Blissful silence. The perfect moment to mention-

Jo does it before he can, saving him from taking the first step. She says, ”Bobby called me today,” with a voice that explains it all. 

Dean would like to cover his ears with his hands and sing until his voice breaks, but he is enough of an adult to understand that maybe that isn’t the best option right now. 

Sam sighs deeply and puts his head in his hands. He has other, much more important things to worry about. This is Dean’s business, Dean is the one who has to take care of it. If getting Sam off the hook was the only reason, that would still be enough. 

”What did he say?” Dean forces himself to ask, even though he does not want to know. 

”John has been coming to the garage, shit drunk as usual, and gone after Bobby. Said something about Bobby ’stealing’ you two, and demanding that he gives you back.” 

Sam laughs brokenly. Dean feels like destroying something would be the best course of action right now.

”I’m gonna call him,” Dean decides, getting to his feet at once because otherwise he will regret it. He leaves Sam in Jo’s not-so capable hands and steps out of the bus, taking a few steps away from the door before he leans against the side of it. John’s number shines ominously on the screen, taunting Dean to put his phone away and not bother calling him. 

He presses the green button almost by mistake, and puts the phone against his ear before he can change his mind. 

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

” _This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean 866-907-3235. He can help._ ”

”Damn it,” Dean whispers, voice just this side of not breaking. He runs a hand through his hair, finds that it does nothing to soothe him so he rubs it over his eyes, again and again until he can see stars. 

If his dad isn’t answering the phone, he is either stubbornly refusing or passed out drunk. Dean doesn’t want to think about a third option. He flips his phone a few time in his hands, then locates Bobby’s number. 

” _This is Ellen,_ ” a familiar voice sings, and Dean exhales heavily.

”Hey, Ellen,” he says, knowing that it’s all she will need. 

” _Dean, honey, it’s so good to hear your voice. How are you? You eating and sleeping okay_?”

”I’m worried about dad,” he admits, steering away the questions about himself. He can hear Ellen mumble something while covering the mouth piece, then she says,

” _Hold on, I’m putting you on speaker. Bobby’s cooking_.”

”Hey, Bobby,” Dean greets, getting a grunt in response. 

_”This about John?_ ”

”Have you talked to him?” 

” _If you call cursing and shouting until he leaves my ass alone ”talking”, then sure._ ” 

” _Bobby_ ,” Ellen chimes in.

”It’s okay, Ellen-”

” _The hell it is. That man can be angry and drunk all he wants, but he’s still family. I won’t hear you boys talking about him as if he doesn’t matter. He needs us, now more than ever_.” 

Neither Bobby nor Dean know quite what to say to that, so Ellen continues. ” _I stopped by yesterday, but he wasn’t home. He’s received the money for the Impala, so my best guess is that he’s burning through the bars in town until they realize what a violent asshole of a drunk he is_.”

Before Dean can reply, she adds, ” _I said he was family. I didn’t say that I was gonna be nice to him._ ” 

”Will you just check on him? Please? Make sure he didn’t fall asleep in the bathtub or something?” 

Dean can’t help it, he is worried about his dad. Because just like Ellen said, he is family. No matter what. 

” _Of course we will, honey_ ,” Ellen agrees, just as Bobby mumbles, ” _Kickin’ it in a bathtub isn’t the worst way to go_.”

Dean can hear a sound that can only be skin on skin contact, and his guess is that Bobby just got a bit of a bitch slap. 

”Thank you. I love you, both of you,” he says, working on _saying_ these things out loud because damn it, life is short. His two step-parents reply according to their personalities, tell him to say hi to Sam and Jo and then they end the call.

When Dean returns to the bus, spirits lifted, he finds Sam and Jo have left, a sticky note taking their place by the table. 

_Went to check out the arena, join us! x Jo_

He considers going, he really does, but tomorrow he will have Sam for himself, and Jo deserves some alone time with the moose.

It suddenly becomes quite obvious that Dean does not have any plans until soundcheck, but that is two hours from now, too little to go do something, too much to just sit on his ass. He gets up from the couch, walks the extremely long distance to the bedroom, sits on the edge of the bed and stares into the empty space in front of him. 

There is an old guitar crammed into the small wardrobe beside the bed. Dean brings it out, blows some non-existing dust off it and places it in his lap where it fits perfectly. This is the guitar he had in high school, the one that he spent hours and hours practicing on, always upset that Balthazar could learn any song in two seconds when it could take Dean days, weeks even. 

As he starts strumming it now, a new order of chords take place and a melody forms in his mind. He smiles to himself as he starts to sing the song into existence.

 

_San Francisco II_

”How are you guys doing? Good?” Balthazar has been in a _fucking hell_ of a mood all day, Bobby/Ellen haven’t called him back regarding John yet, and Dean would really like to go home, but no, instead he’s sweating on a stage.

At least the crowd are on their best behavior. They have managed to cheer him up enough to actually stay and perform and give one hell of a show, but tonight he can’t wait until it’s over. 

Wow, he feels like such an asshole but every day can’t be perfect. Today he allows himself to be a little bit pissed at everything. 

From the corner of his eye he spots Sam, standing next to Kevin and watching him intently, and an idea pops into his head (one that Sam will most definitely hate, but whatever. Dean’s a big brother, and there have been a lot of long months without teasing his brother a little).

”I’ve got a surprise for you tonight. See, I’m looking at my brother right now. You know Sam, right?” 

There’s some cheering, along with the deer-in-the-headlights-look coming from Sam that just makes Dean chuckle. ”Come on up, Sammy. Say hi to these lovely folks.” 

Sam rolls his eyes but complies, making his way around the pit to the side fences, where a security guard offers to help him over (he takes two steps and is over it, damn moose legs). By the time he reaches the front center of the stage, the crowd is going crazy. Sam leans into Dean for a hug, murmuring ” _I’m gonna kill you_ ” into his ear, but Dean just laughs it off. 

”Talk to them,” he yells back, and hands the microphone to Sam, showing him how to hold it. He leaves Sam to his fate and steps off the stage, ignoring Balthazar’s burning gaze. Hopefully he won’t find it as offensive when it is Dean’s brother that is taking up space. 


	9. On tour (part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know this is a bit short as well, but, well, I'm having a bit of a rough time with the plot so I'm just gonna post what I have. Hope you like it!  
> And thank you so much for all the comments and kudos, you guys are seriously the best and I owe you everything xx

_Sacramento_

Dean fucked up. 

Again. 

He fucked up because _damn it_ , he was a bit drunk, maybe a little _too_ drunk to be talking to fans, but he’d been a pretty good-looking guy and Dean had been bored out of his mind. 

Now he’s just waiting for Cas to call. He has to call. Because Dean fucked up and if he is the one who calls, well, maybe Cas hasn’t seen it yet and then he will have to tell him about it and-

The phone rings. Dean takes a deep breath and presses the green button, and is met by silence. 

”Cas I-”

” _Did you mean it?_ ” he interrupts immediately. His voice sounds sad more than anything, and if that doesn’t just break Dean’s heart then-

”Of course not. I was drunk and out of my mind and I shouldn’t have talked to him. I’m sorr-”

” _Oh, so you were drunk_?” 

”Well-”

” _Am I supposed to believe that you wouldn’t have said it otherwise? Honestly, Dean, what were you thinking-_ ”

”Look, Charlie has already bitten my head off for this, I don’t need to hear it from you too. Nothing happened. Will you trust me on this?” That was too harsh, and Dean knows it. He bites his lip and wonders if this is when Cas hangs up, but the line stays connected.

” _So, was he handsome_?”

Dean exhales heavily when he hears the glint in Cas’s voice. He’s not mad. 

”Not as handsome as you, uh…handsome.” 

” _Smooth_.” 

”Look, I flirted with a guy I really shouldn’t have flirted with and you have every right to be pissed at me, hell, you _should_ be pissed at me, but trust me when I say that you are my choice. I-” 

He almost said it, and he sure as hell means it, but he just can’t do it over the phone. 

” _I miss you_.” 

”I’ll be home soon.” 

_”Where are you playing tonight?_ ” 

The conversation continues for far too long and ends with something disturbingly close to phone sex that has Dean bolting to the hotel’s bathroom to jerk off with Cas still at the other end. From what he can hear through the phone, his blue-eyed angel is having quite a good time too. 

 

_Los Angeles I_

Phone sex may just be Dean’s new favorite thing. Who knew that hearing that familiar gravelly voice would be enough to get him rock hard and panting? (Well, his voice _is_ quite astounding, but Dean hasn’t thought about it in _that_ way. Not until now). And when Cas comes and calls his name it makes a shiver run through Dean’s entire body and he just can’t wait to go home. Eleven more shows, then the first leg is done. 

 

_Los Angeles II_

Balthazar leaves when Dean starts chatting with the crowd, going down to the front to let them ask some questions. At first Dean thinks that he’s just going to the bathroom or something, but when fifteen minutes have been spent talking about everything from Baby to going to LA for the first time, he is beginning to realize that maybe the guitarist isn’t coming back. 

To say that Dean is upset would be an understatement. There is something brewing under his skin when he looks at the empty place on the stage. 

They have played for almost an hour, and he could use a short break too, so he looks over at Benny and then Jo, giving the two-finger-point that means that they are getting off the stage. Jo seems a little surprised but agrees, and puts down her sticks before she saunters to the door to the green room. Benny follows her shortly after. 

”Alright, we’re gonna take a quick break. Remember to drink some water, give each other some space, maybe say hi to your neighbor. We’ll be right back,” he promises, and leaves the stage accompanied by the sound of voices. 

In the green room, on the couch, with a glass of what can only be scotch in one hand, sits Balthazar. Dean throws his hands into the air and stands in front of him with a stern look.

He exclaims, ”What the hell?” Balthazar just gives him a short glance and takes a sip of his drink. Dean gets a sudden urge to slap it out of his hand.

”You’re acting like a bitch, get it together, man,” Jo chimes in before Dean can give in to his more violent impulses. 

”Seeing as you’ve switched to talking instead of singing, I figured I might as well have a break. It was getting a bit hot up there,” Balthazar shrugs, and he’s being an asshole and Dean can’t figure out _why_. 

”They love it. The reviews and the feedback we have received are better than they have been in years. People appreciate it,” Benny adds. Dean takes a deep, calming breath when he comes to the realization that he actually has two allies. That what he’s trying to do isn’t completely crazy. 

”I don't give a fuck. I’m here to play the guitar, not sit around for some fucking interview. I’m out,” Balthazar says, the words causing an unfamiliar feeling to lodge itself in Dean’s gut. This is not what he wants. He just wants Balthazar to _understand_. 

”Look-”

”I’m serious. I don’t even know what we are anymore. If this is what you want to be, then fine. But don’t drag my ass along.”

 

_San Diego_

It’s tough to go up on the stage when there’s only the three of them. Jo has been unusually quiet, nerves causing some cracks to form in her otherwise spotless focus. Even Benny seems a little low, but Dean can’t cheer them up. He doesn’t know what to say. 

He’s had a bit too much to drink, but he can still sing and even though he forgets some of the lyrics, the crowd helps him through it. 

He has to play the guitar as well. And he can’t perform on the same level as Balthazar, he just can’t. The fans will just have to live with that. 

When Cas calls, Dean just stares at the screen until it goes black again. 

 

_Las Vegas I_

Dean doesn’t say anything besides the usual ”how are you doing” and ”thank you for coming”. There is no story-time, to talking for minutes while Benny and Jo get some rest. They play and sing and try to do their best. 

Dean doesn’t talk to the reporters. He simply waves and forces a smile and keeps walking.

 

_Las Vegas II_

” _You’ve been avoiding me_ ,” Cas states in that sad voice that makes a lump form in Dean’s throat. He tries to clear it by coughing. It doesn’t work

”I’m sorry.”

” _Please don’t apologize to me._ ”

”I don’t know what to say, man, Balthazar left and I just-” He doesn’t know how to keep going. 

” _He will come around,_ ” Cas says sincerely, and Dean desperately wants to believe him.

”How can you be so sure?”

There is a short pause, enough for Dean to doubt that he is even going to get a response. Then Cas says, ” _Because he has to. He will see that you need him. And then he will come back._ ” 

”Let’s hope that you’re right.” 

 

_Phoenix_

Dean really wants to go home, and it’s starting to show. Since Balthazar left he’s been drinking a little too much and not getting quite enough sleep, and he’s on edge and cranky and everyone has to pay the price for it.

Balthazar is (was?) his best friend, and despite their differences, he misses him. Most of all, he misses the good old days when things were easy, when it was the two of them at some shady bar, with nothing but a guitar and a microphone. 

He’s been a crappy friend, and now he’s paying for it. The energy that Balthazar brought to the stage is gone, despite Benny and Jo’s attempts at amping it up. Dean isn’t doing a bad job, quite the opposite actually, if you go by the tabloids, but the mood behind the stage isn’t as cheerful as it used to be. 

 

_Tucson_

_Albuquerque_

_San Antonio_

_Houston_

_Austin_

_Dallas_

”That was our last song. Thank you all for coming out tonight, hope you had a great time. See you!” 

It’s over. Two months, 26 shows, and finally, finally they get a break.


	10. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting slow, I know, and I'm sorry, but at least I haven't stopped completely. I will finish this, I promise you. Thank you all so much for reading *I adore you* xx

Castiel is busy going through Zachariah’s latest form of complaint against them (this time questioning the size of their dining room) when he hears it - the familiar rumble of a muscle car that causes him to shoot up from his chair and run over to the window facing the street. 

And there it is. The impala, Dean’s car, in all its glory. Castiel drops everything he has in his hands and bolts down the stairs, throwing the door open before Dean has come halfway across the lawn. Their eyes meet and Dean quirks his lips up in a soft smile, and then Castiel is running towards him,certainly surprising him by practically throwing himself into his arms. It takes a second, but then Dean’s hands desperately clutch the back of his shirt.

Castiel’s body aches with how tightly Dean is holding him. He hugs him back a little tighter. His feet barely touch the ground and Dean’s head is perfectly buried in the crook of his neck, where he can’t possibly get any air but what the hell, neither of them are breathing anyways. 

Dean is the first one to let go. He backs away a few inches, only enough to thumb across Castiel’s cheekbone. 

”Hello, Dean,” Castiel says quietly, which entices another soft smile. 

”Hey.” 

”What happened?” he asks, having seen the press’s hysteria after that show in San Diego when only three of the band members showed. Judging by Dean’s expression, the singer seems to take personal offense at the question. He drops his hand from Castiel’s cheek and takes a fraction of a step back. 

”He left,” he states with a shrug. Maybe he’s going for indifferent, but Castiel can see the pain in his eyes. 

”Why?” 

”Because I wasn’t good enough, that’s why!” he practically shouts. Castiel flinches at the volume of his voice and steps back a little as well. Not that the distance makes any difference. 

”Dean-”

”No. You know what, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here, not tonight.” 

He turns away as if to leave, but he doesn’t get very far. Castiel can feel it, the part of Dean that wants to stay fighting the part of him that _needs_ to run away. Because Dean doesn’t do relationships. He picks up a girl at a bar, has sex with her and sneaks away in the early morning. And it hurts him a little more every time (Dean told him, in what he must have considered a weak moment). 

”I care about you, you know,” Castiel almost whispers. Dean whips his head around and looks at him doubtfully, eyes darting back and forth across his face. His expression softens a little as his eyelids shut. 

”I’m trying to remind myself of that, ’cause-”

”What?”

”Because sometimes I think that I’m in way too deep and I’ll end up getting hurt. Sooner or later, everyone leaves me.” 

He says it with such sincerity that it breaks Castiel’s heart a little. His words falter and he doesn’t know what to say, he can only take those infernal steps forwards and smash their lips together until they can’t breathe. 

”I won’t leave you,” he promises, hoping that he can keep it. Dean kisses him with a sort of intense urge that does all sorts of things to Castiel’s body. He’s wrecked, standing in front of his house late at night all wrapped up in the most beautiful man in the world. It’s terrifying and exhilarating and Castiel hopes that it will last. 

When he feels something wet against his cheek he pulls back, only to find tears in Dean’s shut eyes. 

”I’m sorry,” he gasps, collapsing against Castiel while the sobs tear themselves out of his chest. ”I’m sorry, I’m just _so_ tired. I feel like I haven’t slept in days, and-”

Castiel steers him inside, hushes his words and brings him to his bedroom, where he sits on the edge of the bed with his head hanging heavily from his neck. 

”Let’s go to sleep,” Castiel suggests, gently lying down and pulling Dean with him, until they are a mess of limbs and skin against skin and Dean lets out a soft breath that hits Castiel’s neck. 

 

Castiel has switched some shifts and has almost the full two weeks off, which he is glad to be spending with Dean. The first 48 hours are spent at Castiel’s house, talking and kissing and having sex and finding out every little detail about each other (Dean’s favorite pie is pecan, and he still panics at the smell of fire). As much as Castiel loves just hanging out with him, he can tell that Dean is getting restless. He is only home for two weeks, after all, and Castiel understands that he has other friends to see. 

What he hadn’t expected was to be brought along. They visit Dean’s uncle Bobby, where Castiel gets some hints about Dean’s father’s condition, they have dinner with Dean’s childhood friend, and they even hang out with Sam who flies over for the weekend. 

Castiel takes an instant liking to Sam. They spend the first half hour or so discussing folklore (much to Dean’s dismay), after discovering that they have taken similar classes at college. It is extremely evident that Sam is Dean’s younger brother, at the same time that they are utterly different. Sam shares the same deep and very genuine kindness that Dean shows, along with his wit and clever comments, but while Dean can be a bit reserved behind his happy-go-lucky facade, Sam’s emotions are on constant display on his face (a little frown when Dean makes an unnecessary comment, replaced by a barely-there smile when he talks about his girlfriend Jess). 

And when Dean mentions their father, no more than a fleeting comment about going to see him tomorrow, Castiel can suddenly see a storm brewing behind Sam’s hazel green eyes and the temperature in the room seems to drop a few degrees.

”You should stay away from him,” Sam says through gritted teeth, making Castiel wonder about the source of all that anger. All he knows about the oldest Winchester is that he’s had it rough since losing his wife, which Castiel understands way too deeply. 

”I haven’t seen him in months. It’s _dad_ ,” Dean retorts, the same stubbornness in his jaw that Castiel can see in Sam’s. 

”I know, that’s why you shouldn’t go there,” Sam bites back and makes fist out of his knuckles, then loosens them again. 

”I should give you some privacy,” Castiel suggests, instantly regretting it when Dean’s expression turns to one of sorrow. 

”It’s okay, Cas. You deserve to know.” He takes a deep breath, then another, then a third one before he clenches his teeth and gets a faraway look in his eyes. ”Sammy, you wanna listen to this?” 

”Not really, but I’ll stay. If it’s alright with you, Cas?” 

Why does he get the feeling that his world is about to be turned upside down and tossed around?Sam is waiting for him to reply, so he nods. Uncertainly, to say the least. 

”It’s nothing complex, really, it’s just a widower who coped with the loss of the love of his life by turning to alcohol,” Dean explains shortly, still leaving quite a few gaps. Sam is quick to fill in, however:

”He’s a violent drunk bastard.”

” _Sam_.”

Sam doesn’t stop. ”He is. We spent ten years jumping from motel to motel, changing schools every week, just because of his pointless search for revenge. Sometimes he would disappear for days, leaving us with almost no money. On the days when he gave up the search he would hit the bottle and take his anger out on Dean.” 

”Sam,” Dean repeats, but there is no heat behind the word now. Just exasperation. Sam gives him a long look, then turns to Castiel again. 

”Haven’t you seen the scars?” 

” _Sam!_ ”

Even Sam jumps a little at the anger in his voice. Before he can open his mouth again, Dean points at the door. It’s a simple gesture, and Castiel can see that Sam wants to ignore it, but eventually he gets up and leaves the room. 

”Cas, I-”

”What scars?” he interrupts. Dean somehow has the audacity to roll his eyes despite the seriousness of Castiel’s question. 

”I’ve got these tiny scars on the back of my shoulder from when he hit me with a glass bottle that shattered. It’s nothing, I-”

”Let me see.” Dean raises an eyebrow at that, actually smirking a little.

”You that desperate to get me naked?” 

”Let me see,” he insists, and this time Dean complies. He turns around and grabs the back of his t-shirt, pulling it off in a swift movement and Castiel gets to his feet. He stands behind Dean and tentatively runs a hand across his shoulder, feeling nothing but smooth skin. 

”Right there,” Dean mumbles, reaching around to his right shoulder to guide Castiel’s fingers until he comes across a little bump. It’s no more than a centimeter long, but when Castiel starts to explore Dean’s skin more thoroughly, he finds that there are countless little bumps just like it, scattered across his skin. Like his freckles, they form a constellation of dots and lines that could easily be discarded as nothing more than a birthmark.

”See? S’nothing, Sam’s overreacting as always.” 

”Your father did this to you?” 

Dean turns around, forcing Castiel to stop touching him in an infuriating way. He grabs his shirt and starts putting it on, struggling a little to get his left arm through the sleeve while he speaks.

”He’s a bit messed up, same as everyone else. He’s still family.” 

”Family doesn’t- It doesn’t mean that-” 

Castiel wants to say that family doesn’t hit you, family doesn’t leave scars and blood and pain, but then he remembers that all his family ever did for him was leave him. Maybe he’s not one to judge, because Dean and Sam’s father is still alive and maybe that is worth more than anything else. 

”I know it’s not ideal, Cas. And sometimes I hate him, I really do.”

”I’m sorry,” he says, because he doesn’t know what else there is to say. Dean seems to accept it. 

”Now you know. You know that he’s a mean fucker and I haven’t seen him in months and I really don’t want to see him, but I’m still gonna do it.”

”You don’t have to.” 

Dean smiles at that, a soft, sad smile. 

”I kind of do.” 

They drop the subject then, let Sam come back into the room and the air might be a little heavier but they breathe through it. Sam offers to buy them dinner, which Castiel is not really in the mood for but he accepts anyways. And when Dean kisses him goodbye and says that he will pick him up at six, he is suddenly a bit tense and Castiel wants to ask him about it but he doesn’t. 

Since he suddenly finds himself with an entire afternoon free, Castiel decides to stop by the Seraph’s, mostly to see if they need an extra hand. When he enters the office in search for his two coworkers, he is met by a disturbing sight - Anna and Gabriel making out, in a way that would have turned into something less innocent if Castiel hadn’t interrupted it. He groans and desperately tries to shut the door, but Gabriel somehow manages to stop him.

”Cassie, how good to see you!” He’s going for oblivious, but Castiel can see right through it. With a deep breath he forces a smile, not quite able to look at Gabriel (he catches a glimpse of his slick lips and, oh _god,_ the fabric of his pants is clearly stretched to its breaking point).

”You are both adults and allowed to do whatever you want, but please-” he pauses and looks at Anna, finds that it’s just as difficult as looking at Gabriel, ”Please don’t defile our office.” 

When he leaves he is followed by nervous laughter that turns into a heavy sound that Castiel has to get away from. 

He finds refuge in the kitchen, where Alfie is busy teaching young Samandriel how to make pancakes. They let him watch and Alfie reveals that Gabriel and Anna haven’t been very subtle about their relationship, making Castiel wonder whether it is something that will last. 

A few of the older kids join them in the kitchen, having gotten the task of helping out with dinner tonight, and Castiel busies himself with preparing some salad, happy to have something to distract him. 

Because Anna and Gabriel might be a couple. And Dean and Sam are going to take him out to dinner. And Dean is leaving again on Tuesday. 

The two months were difficult, to say the least, waking up every morning knowing that Dean most likely was surrounded by beautiful women and men while Castiel is stuck in Lawrence, waiting for him to return. It makes him feel desperate and clingy but he wants nothing more than to keep Dean at home, with him. 

Six pm comes closer, and Castiel excuses himself to go home and change. Dean picks him up in the Impala (Sam is already in the back, letting him ride shotgun), still a little stiff around the edges but that changes once they reach the restaurant and sit down. Watching the brothers interact makes something warm lodge itself in Castiel’s gut, and most of the time he just sits there smiling, listening to random stories from their childhood. It all feels so normal, as if they have done this a hundred times before, and Castiel can relax in their presence and everything just makes him so happy, and when they walk out of the restaurant somewhere close to midnight, he doesn’t think twice about taking Dean’s hand. 

And Dean accepts it, he does, but his smile fades a little and he looks everywhere but on Castiel, and Castiel doesn’t understand why until Dean suddenly stops and turns towards him (Sam has kept walking, heading towards something that Castiel can’t see because Dean is blocking him). 

”There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet, and now I sort have to rush it and I-”

Castiel interrupts him with a frown, because Dean is rambling. 

”I like you a lot, Cas.”

”I like you too.” His heart is pumping way too fast, because surely Dean can’t be-

”I consider us to be a couple.”

”I agree.” 

Then Dean takes a turn that makes Castiel’s heart stop beating altogether, and he has to fight to keep the disappointment and confusion off his face.

”There is a group of journalists and fans - or whatever - waiting by the Impala, and we haven’t talked about whether we want to be public about this relationship. Do you want the rest of the world to know that we are a thing? Because you have to know that if I tell them, your ass will be haunted by photographers and fans and there’s no going back after that.”

Castiel opens his mouth as if to say something, but no words come out. 

”Cas! Do you want to talk to the press or not?” Dean asks, and now his voice is growing impatient, and Castiel doesn’t know what he wants but he shakes his head. To his credit, Dean’s expression remains neutral.

”Okay. Then I’ll call a cab to pick you up at the restaurant. See you tomorrow?” 

Castiel nods mutely, his tongue forming a question behind his teeth but he can’t say anything. 

_Why do you have to leave me?_

Dean squeezes his hand and turns around, almost running to the car and now Castiel can see flashes going off and Sam’s towering frame. Dean’s laughter can be heard all the way back to the restaurant, and Castiel understands (that he is trying to protect him; that he loves talking to his fans). 

The cab is waiting for him. He climbs in and feels empty, lost, confused. 

_I like you a lot._

_I consider us to be a couple._

_Do you want the rest of the world to know that we are a thing?_ (because if this doesn’t work out, our relationship will be spread out across the tabloids and millions of strangers will read about what went wrong and whose fault it was).

Castiel has a hard time thinking about anything else. 

 

When Dean shows up on Castiel’s doorstep the next evening, Castiel’s first reaction is to take a step back. 

”It’s nothing,” Dean mutters, already trying to shield his face but the bruises are painfully visible. 

”What happened?” He reaches a hand up as if to touch his cheek, but Dean shies away and Castiel forces himself to hide the pain of rejection. 

”I said it’s _nothing_.” His words bite a hole in Castiel’s chest and he tries to understand the anger; tries to make himself believe that it isn’t directed towards him. Dean pushes his way past him, angrily takes off his shoes and his jacket and when he stops on the way to the living room, his back turned towards Castiel, he realizes that there is something very off about the singer. Like he has been unhinged, cracked, a new sort of anger flooding his veins that Castiel doesn’t recognize. 

”Was it your father?” Castiel asks, because he has to know. Dean spins around and swivels a little at the spot, steadying himself by planting a hand against the wall. 

”Of _fucking course_ it was my _fucking father_ , who else would it be?” he spits, making Castiel flinch a little. 

Dean is drunk. 

Very drunk. He sways on the spot and tries to focus on Castiel’s face, but the alcohol has muddied his mind. 

”D’you want to fuck or not?” he growls, and Castiel should be frightened by his current state but all he feels is a swell of sympathy towards the singer. Slowly, as if trying not to startle an injured animal, he approaches Dean and cups his cheek, stroking a thumb across his freckles. 

”I’m not going to do anything unless you stop acting like an asshole,” he whispers, knowing full well that Dean _could_ react by hitting him (but then he cards his fingers through his hair and Dean’s expression softens, and he knows that this man would never hurt him. Never.)

”Shut up, you like my asshole,” Dean quips, and it’s enough to make Castiel laugh and let his right hand trail south until it reaches jeans and a belt and he forces his fingers underneath the fabric, sliding his index finger along the crack between two firm muscles. Dean exhales a sound that should belong in some porno, making Castiel blush and retrieve his hand (much to Dean’s dismay). 

”Bedroom or couch?” Castiel asks, going for teasing but it turns out desperate and Dean crashes their lips together, pulling him along until the familiar fabric of Castiel’s couch surrounds him. He sinks deeper into the kiss, Dean towering above him and he reaches for his shirt, pushing it up to feel the heat beneath his skin, the quiver in his muscles. He can taste alcohol in Dean’s mouth, but it still tastes like _Dean_ and it’s deliciously euphoric. 

Dean starts tugging at his shirt, his belt buckle, blindly trying to get his clothes off and Castiel has to push him away to do it on his own. He bravely removes both his pants and his underwear at once, not missing how Dean’s eyes go dark with lust. 

”Lube’s in the bedroom,” Castiel pants, his dick heavy and eager and he needs to get things moving.

Dean leaves a cold space behind, stumbling to the bedroom and Castiel ignores the crashes and the curses because when he returns, Dean is naked as on the day he was born (there are bruises littering his ribs and stomach but they can wait). Castiel gets to his feet and catches him in a filthy kiss, immediately rutting against him and he groans deeply into Dean’s mouth when strong hands grab his ass. 

”Please fuck me,” Dean mumbles into his ear, and they _still_ haven’t gotten around to having Castiel bottom, but there’s something about sinking into Dean’s heat that is so addictive that Castiel can’t refuse. He promptly guides Dean towards the couch, making him kneel on it and lean his torso over the back, ass presented towards Castiel and _jesus_ he’s hard. The lube lies waiting beside Dean, so Castiel hurriedly squirts some onto his fingers and without warning he plunges two fingers into Dean, pleased at the way his breath catches and his ass clenches around Castiel. 

” _Shit,_ ” he moans, bracing himself on the couch as Castiel starts pumping his fingers, taking no time to be gentle about it. 

”Tell me if I need to stop,” Castiel urges, and when Dean doesn’t respond he hooks his fingers and presses against his prostate, gaining a surprised gasp and a series of mumbled words:

”Please, oh, please Cas, don’t stop, don’t-” he cries out as Castiel finds his prostate again. ”Please, please fuck me, I want to be tight for you, Cas, please-” 

Castiel adds a third finger, pretty much just leaving them in there as he takes his cock in his other lubed hand, moaning at the sensations and he almost wants to come like this; fingers buried in Dean’s ass and hearing him beg for more, but then he finds his footing and pulls his fingers out. He watches, almost in fascination, as the muscle around Dean’s hole flutters and clenches, and he reaches up to card his fingers through the singer’s hair. 

”Ready?” he whispers, lining himself up and it takes every ounce of willpower inside him to stay still.

” _Yes_ , god yes, I’m ready,” Dean urges, pushing his hips back just as Castiel starts pressing forwards, and their combined movements makes Castiel bottom out at once. Dean cries out and for a second Castiel is worried that he hurt him, that it was too much, but then Dean starts pumping his hips back and he’s sobbing for more. 

” _Fuck me_ ,” he begs, and now Castiel can’t refuse him. He pulls back and slams forwards, thrusts deeply into the tight heat, he places one hand on Dean’s hip and one on his shoulder to gain more leverage, needing to go deeper, harder, his legs trembling with the effort but it’s all so wonderful. 

A stray thought hits Castiel and he falters, because Dean said that he _liked_ him, and not in a ”hey you’re kind of cool, let’s hang out”-way, but in a ”I love you but I don’t know how to say it out loud”’-way, and everything suddenly makes sense. Because yes, Castiel feels the same way. 

Dean bounces back against him and Castiel pounds into him, with force and desperation and love, and his vision whites out and his body tenses up and he comes, collapsing on top of Dean who simply slumps against the back of the couch, climax already reached. 

_I love you_ , he wants to say, but something is blocking his ability to speak. Dean knows. He has to know. 

Of course he know, how couldn’t he?


	11. There ain't no me if there ain't no you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *wow* am I getting slow or what? In my defense, I am working on a new Destiel fic that is not AU, the plan is to finish the entire thing before posting it, so, well, we'll see how this works out.

Dean knows that he shouldn’t have gone to see dad. Because John is a drunk and a bastard, as Sam would say, and on top of that he now feels abandoned and betrayed and Dean was the last person he wanted to see. They got in an argument, the first serious one because Dean has never talked back to him before, and it had all ended up with bruises and bloody knuckles and John screaming at him to get out.

Because of this, the last thing Dean had expected to see the next morning was his dad, shaved and cleaned up and looking strangely naked without his drunken facade. 

But there he was. Outside Dean’s hotel (because Dean had sneaked out of Cas’s bed in the middle of the night, too disheveled to sleep and not able to stay). And now they are in the impala on their way to meet Sam and have lunch. Like a normal freaking family. 

Dean keeps his eyes on John, worried that he is actually still drunk and that maybe they shouldn’t go see Sammy after all. But he seems fine. He looks good, even. Dean wants to tell him, but the words get stuck in his throat. 

There are three unread texts in his phone, all from Cas, and Dean doesn’t know how to talk to him so he leaves them unopened for now. Because last night-

Last night Dean had been drunk and angry and on the verge of breaking down, and Cas had fucking pulled him together and fucked him a total of three times, and Dean had almost fucking told him that-

”Is this the one?” John asks, and Dean is still startled to hear him speak without slurring. He gazes out the window and spots Sam’s moose hair inside the restaurant, nodding slowly.

”Yep.” 

Dean parks the car and they get out, and when they enter the restaurant (more of a diner, really), Dean realizes that maybe he should have gone inside first, because Sam hasn’t seen John in years and he didn’t know that he would be joining them, and now he looks downright murderous. 

”What the _hell_ do you think-”

”It’s okay, Sammy,” Dean interrupts, clasping a hand on his shoulder to push him back down into his seat (he is still the stronger one, after all). 

”Okay? _Okay?_ Have you looked into a mirror lately?” Dean rolls his eyes and sits down without preamble, gesturing at John to do the same. Their father hesitates a little, but sits across from them in the little booth. Dean is suddenly very glad that he and Sam are side-by-side, both of them facing him, because he knows that sitting next to John would be all kinds of awkward. 

”Dad?” he asks, respectful despite everything, because John still makes him sit a little straighter in his seat. 

”Boys, I wanted to apologize to the both of you. After Dean came and visited me yesterday, I realized how far I’ve fallen, and I am sorry. I want to change. I want to be a better father.” 

Dean can sense that Sam is about to talk back, so he drives a sharp elbow into his ribs. _Shut up_.

”I got tickets to a baseball game, would you like to join me?” he asks, and it’s bittersweet and too late and it hurts that he waited 25 fucking years, but at least he is trying. Dean gives Sam the look, the one that is asking him whether he wants to go or not, and Sam shrugs, saying that he really doesn’t want to but that he’s going to try. 

”That’d be nice, dad,” Dean replies, forcing a smile that makes his bruises sting and he almost wants to laugh at the irony of it. 

They eat in a stiff silence, only the occasional question and fleeting comment breaking it (”How is college?” to Sam, and ”You’re not doing drugs, right?” to Dean). All in all, an awkward family lunch that makes them all cringe and want to run out of there, but the stubbornness wins over the will to flee. 

It becomes easier when they reach the arena and can focus on the game. Quite a few people stop him (and Sam) and ask for a selfie, and he accepts every one, chatting with fans and forgetting that Balthazar left and that things are all messed up now. No one mentions the possible need for a new band member, for which Dean is grateful. It’s not until the game starts that he is left alone and can finally sit down. 

Dean sits in the middle, and he and John discuss the game, and it’s all a bit absurd but he doesn’t know how to escape. All he ever wanted was to go to a ball game with his dad, to do something _normal_ that wasn’t living in crappy motels and pushing his bed in front of the door to make sure that John wouldn’t burst in in the middle of the night and wake Sammy. 

No, Dean is a long way from forgiving his father, but he can do this much. He can go to a baseball game with him, eat a disgusting hot dog and laugh at Sam’s disapproving face. His phone keeps buzzing, but he is too much of a coward to take it up now. Because if Cas wants nothing more to do with him after how he treated him last night he would understand, but he allows himself to live in obliviousness for a while longer. 

Things almost feel normal in the car on the way home. Dean allowed John to drive the Impala, because it has been his car for thirty-something years. Sam has loosened up a little, actually talking to John about his upcoming final exam and the law firm that has offered him a job, and John is listening intently. Dean sits right behind him in the back seat, and all he can see is his left ear and his dark hair, and when he closes his eyes he remembers riding in a car just like this one, John behind the wheel and his mother next to him, saying something that makes his dad laugh. She turns around in her seat to face him, and her smile is blindingly bright, almost like-

There is a deafening crash, a sharp pain in his side, and then nothing.

∞

Sam calls him. It’s not that late, only 9 pm, and Castiel is re-reading his texts to Dean, wondering if he should send another one.

_Would you like to come over for lunch?_

_Why did you leave?_

_I am not upset after what happened yesterday._

_Will you call me?_

_Dean?_

All pathetic, whiney texts but Castiel is still composing a new one, because he is worried. Dean has never taken so long to answer before. 

And then Sam calls. 

” _Castiel, you need to come to the hospital. There’s been an- we- Dean is-_ ”

He can’t finish a single sentence, and when Castiel hears nothing but muffled sobs he hangs up and gets to his feet. A strange sense of calm hits him, and he gets dressed, picks up his wallet and his phone, puts on his trenchcoat and his shoes, locks the door behind him and starts walking towards the hospital (it’s only about a mile away, no need to call a cab). He feels like a robot, stopping at red lights without noticing it and when he reaches the hospital he follows the signs to the ER, where he finds chaos and loud voices and beeping machines, but no Sam. There is someone sitting behind a desk staring at a computer screen, so Castiel approaches him and knocks on the desk. 

”Can I help you?” the guy says. His name-tag says ”Phil”. 

”I’m here for Dean Winchester, do you know where he is?” he explains, quite politely if you ask him, but Phil raises and eyebrow and gives him a tired eye roll. 

”And I’m married to Yoko Ono. Get out of here.” 

Castiel surprises both of them by slamming his fist into the table, and suddenly every last scrap of fear that he has been holding back floods his systems, and he can’t breathe.

” _Where is he?_ Tell me _where he is!_ ”

”Dude, calm down. How did you even know that he was here?”

” _Because I’m his_ -” He can’t say it, he doesn’t have the right word for it, and he’s hyperventilating and Phil actually starts to look a little worried. 

”Okay, sit down. Take a deep breath, come on,” he tries, and at some point he got to his feet but Castiel can’t remember when. Because Dean is here somewhere, _hurt_ , and Sam couldn’t even _speak_ and something is very, very wrong.

”Look, I’m sorry, but only family is allowed to visit, unless you have a specific permission from a close family member I can’t-”

”Cas!” a voice cries out, and Sam stumbles towards him, a nurse running after with a pair of pliers in one hand and a worried expression, but Sam can’t be stopped. Castiel meets him halfway, catching him in an unexpected hug (because he only met him a few days ago and he doesn’t deserve this level of trust). 

”What happened?” Castiel gets out, helping Sam find his balance and Phil and the nurse are trying to get their attention, but Sam waves them off.

”We were hit by a truck, it slammed right into the side of the car, dad was driving and Dean sat behind him and they were on the wrong side, the car is just a _mess_ , completely ruined, and when I woke up they were both all bloody and broken and-” Sam takes a huge breath of air, falters a little and this time the nurse steadies him. 

”Let’s go sit down again and I’ll finish stitching you up,” she says, and Castiel only needs to look at Phil to know that he now has the title of a family member. 

”Where is Dean?” Castiel asks again, because Sam didn’t get that far in his explanation and he’s starting to look a little lightheaded. ”Sam,” he urges, and Sam’s expression changes into even deeper worry.

”He’s in surgery,” he explains shortly, before the nurse pulls him along to a hospital bed. They leave Castiel alone in the middle of the ER, hands hanging limply by his sides and he _doesn’t know what to do_. 

Two hours later, Sam is laying on his back gazing up at the ceiling while Castiel frets beside him. Sam and Dean’s father, John, is in the room next to them (seemingly unharmed) but Castiel has not met him yet. Nothing more than a quick glance through the window before darting into Sam’s room. 

”He took us to a baseball game,” Sam mumbles.

”That was kind of him.”

”A fucking _baseball game_. They had beers and hot dogs and all the while I was just sitting there thinking _this isn’t normal, this isn’t how things are supposed to be_ , but Dean just-”

He gestures something with his hands that explains it pretty well. 

”Maybe he wants you to be a family again?”

Sam snorts unhappily and closes his eyes.

”He wants money. Or whatever. I don’t care. Every time he shows up things go sideways. And now Dean-”

Castiel forces himself to not picture a world without Dean in it, because the thought alone is too painful. No, he can’t see a scenario that will end with Dean not coming out of this mess unharmed. 

Well, Alive. Right now, Castiel doesn’t really care in what state Dean is in, as long as he survives. 

”And he took us to a _baseball game_. I haven’t seen him in _ten years_. And he just-”

”It’s okay, Sam,” he interrupts. Then he changes it to ”It’ll be okay,” because right now things are most definitely _not_ okay. 

”I just can’t believe he would-”

Sam goes on ranting about his dysfunctional father and Castiel can’t do anything but listen to him. Because he is hurt and scared and he needs to take his anger out on something, and John is the perfect scapegoat. 

There is a knock on the door and they both straighten up, dreading and hoping that it will be a doctor telling them that Dean’s surgery is finished, but then John peeks his head inside and Sam’s eyes go red. 

”Son-” he starts, but Sam cuts him off.

”Don’t you ” _son”_ me, this is all your bloody fault. If you had just stayed away, if you’d just _left us alone_ we wouldn’t _be_ in this mess, and Dean wouldn’t-”

” _Sam Winchester don’t you take that tone with me_ ,” John growls, and now Castiel can see it - he can see the alcoholic, the broken man who could not figure out how to cope without the love of his life. Who turned the grief into anger. The worst part, perhaps, is that Castiel _understands_ , because he can feel John’s grief as if it was his own, smothering him like Castiel was smothered when he lost his parents. It _still_ hurts, despite everything, but Castiel can deal with the pain, allow himself to feel it but not be consumed by it. 

John Winchester feels the pain all the time, like he’s lost a hand, an arm, and can’t function without it. 

”Mr. Winchester,” Castiel starts, and when John glances at him briefly he realizes that he has no idea what to say so he lowers his gaze. 

”I love you boys with everything I’ve got. Never forget that,” John says, almost sadly, and then Castiel can see that something’s wrong because John starts swaying on the spot and before Castiel can get to his feet his eyes roll into his head and he drops down on the floor like a bag of dirt. 

” _Dad_ ,” Sam cries, scrambling out of bed and Castiel watches in silence as the youngest Winchester tries to shake his father back to life. 

∞

When Dean wakes up his first urge is to throw up despite not feeling nauseous and he just sits up - or rather, he tries to sit up, because _fuckfuckfuck_ something is going down his throat and _shit_ when did this turn into a freaking horror show - and he’s panicking and gulping for air and-

_Fuck_ , it’s a _tube_ , and it’s moving and he’s gagging and _dear god just make it end_ -

The tube disappears and now he’s retching, body convulsing on itself and there’s not much coming up but _ew_. Dean quickly closes his eyes and leans back in the bed as someone he does not know removes the blanket that was covering his legs and he feels strangely naked without it, he almost asks to have it back before something is placed on top of him again. 

”Drink this,” a voice says, kind but unfamiliar and he opens his eyes just a sliver and-

Cas is standing in the doorway, looking breathless and devastated. A straw is pushed against his lips and he dutifully takes a few sips, shooting a glance at the nurse who is holding the glass of water. She’s got a nice rack, Dean can admit as much, but before he can analyze them too much his eyes land on Cas and every stray though about boobs and pretty nurses disappear because damn it - Cas is standing only a few feet away.

”Cas,” he croaks, throat still dry and he would like to have some more water but the nurse has walked away. Cas seems to get Dean’s searching look, because he steps around the bed, grabs the discarded glass and fills it with some water from the tap. Now it tastes like iron and chlorine, and Dean crinkles his nose, but Cas is holding the glass, so, well. 

”How are you feeling?” 

”Like I was hit by a fucking truck. How is Sammy?” Dean gulps, remembering the lights and the crash and the searing pain that followed. One look at his broken body is all he needs to look away again. Into Cas’s eyes. 

_And why does he look so upset?_

”Sam got some cuts from the glass, and a concussion. But he’s alright. You, on the other hand-”

For some reason Dean understands why he doesn’t want to finish the sentence. He was on the driver’s side of the car, the side that was hit, and his legs feel heavy and useless and he just has this _feeling_ that he’s never going to use them again.

”Just tell me, please.”

Cas swallows roughly. The distressed expression looks foreign on his face. 

”You had quite a lot of internal bleeding, that’s why you were in surgery. Your left leg is crushed and broken in several places, you left shoulder was dislocated and broken, you’ve got broken ribs, a concussion, your right knee is messed up, and-”

”Am I paralyzed?”

Cas nearly looks a little offended. If Dean hadn’t been in so much pain, he might have laughed at it.

”Paralyzed? Dean, you will have to ride a wheelchair for a while, and go to physical therapy, but you will be fine.”

The words take forever to sink in. He takes a look at his shoulder, the heavy cast and how it is strapped in place, he tentatively runs his right hand across his stomach where he can feel a thick bandage. His legs are hidden underneath the blanket. 

Good. He looks hideous enough as it is. 

”Where’s my brother?” he asks weakly, because he has to _see_ him to know that he is alright.

Cas doesn’t reply. Not straight away. His eyes shoot to the floor and his shoulders tense up. 

”Hey,” Dean tries, putting a bit of force in the word because-

”He’s with your father.”

Okay, that was a bit unexpected, but if this mess of broken bones and injuries can bring Sam and John closer, maybe it is worth it. Maybe-

”Well, tell them to get their asses over here and see me.”

Cas gives him a long look, silently trying to explain something so he doesn’t have to say it out loud. Dean swallows hard and tries to sit up a little straighter.

”Go get them.” 

”Your father is dead. John is dead,” Cas explains quietly, and suddenly the pain in his eyes makes sense. 

Dean lets his head fall back on the bed and forces a deep breath. When it doesn’t work, he closes his eyes and takes another one, inhale, exhale, tries to keep breathing.

”Get Sammy.”

Cas does. Sam enters the room on his own, tears lining his cheeks and he nearly collapses next to Dean’s bed, burying his face in his hands and Dean can’t reach him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a thing for hospitals, okay? Hope you liked it, thank you for reading xx


	12. All this confusion

Castiel goes to the funeral, not that he knew John at all, but Dean asked him to come. Why, Castiel doesn’t quite understand because besides the desperate hug Dean hasn’t interacted with him at all, and now he’s sitting at a table with Sam and Bobby and Ellen and Jo. 

They are at John’s house, a large place that Dean bought for him and that still carries a faint smell of cigarettes and beer (and something stronger, that Castiel can’t put his finger on). There’s a surprisingly large amount of people, and Castiel is grateful that he ended up next to Charlie, Dean’s manager, because she seems to like him and makes sure his thoughts never drift too far from the conversation around the table. It’s nice of her, to make him feel included. 

He would still prefer to sit next to Dean, but, well. Dean is being hugged by Ellen from behind and he is actually smiling a little. 

Then the door opens and Balthazar stumbles inside, Charlie gets to her feet and Benny looks downright murderous, but Dean lifts his good arm as an invitation, and Balthazar crashes into him with a hug. 

”I’m so sorry,” can be heard repeatedly, words that everyone else pretend not to hear. 

”It seems like we won’t have to find a new guitarist after all,” Charlie mutters, neither happy nor upset at the revelation. 

 

_September_

”I’m not doing this shit anymore,” Dean exclaims, and Castiel picks up the discarded weight. He is a patient man, has always been, that’s one of the reasons he is so good with the children at the Seraph’s. 

However, Dean is stubborn and angry and he’s in pain, and Castiel is starting to get annoyed. He takes a deep breath and hands the weight to Dean again. 

”Come on, just ten more.” 

The cast around Dean’s shoulder is off and he has five different exercises that Castiel forces him to do every day, but he is struggling. He still rides around in a wheelchair.

The tour is postponed for now, waiting for Dean to recover, even though both Charlie and Benny have suggested that cancelling the tour might be the best option.

(”Not gonna happen. No freaking way. If I can’t get back on stage I’m gonna go crazy.”)

So now he’s doing physical therapy and he’s acting like a mean little kid, but Castiel takes it all.

Because at night, when Dean lies down in bed and the pain subsides, he holds Castiel as tightly as he possibly can and tells him that he knows that he’s a dick and that he needs Castiel and that he’s sorry. 

 

_October_

Castiel listens to Dean talking to a journalist on the phone. It doesn’t take too long to figure out that it’s basically an interview, which makes something flutter in Castiel’s heart. 

If Dean feels like talking to his fans again, that means that he’s seriously on the mend. 

Charlie has been stopping by every day with fain mail, because while Dean doesn’t have a formal adress in Lawrence, she does. Castiel helps him sort through it, putting up some of his favorites on the fridge. 

Dean has sort of moved in with Castiel, not officially, and probably not permanently (”You can stay for as long as you like, I enjoy your company”), but still, they kind of live together now. And the thing is, Castiel doesn’t mind Dean’s snoring and cranky morning mood and that he plays music a little too loudly, because-

_I love you_

Dean’s voice can be heard into the living room, and Castiel can’t help eavesdropping a little. They are talking about the tour, how Dean is doing (better, he’s on crutches now, and he has even picked up his guitar), when Dean’s soft chuckle spreads, making Castiel smile a little. 

”Me? In a relationship? Only if I find the right gal.” 

Castiel’s smile fades and suddenly it’s a little hard to swallow.

 

_November_

”Dean?” 

”Mm?” 

”You- you said you considered us to be a couple.” 

Dean nuzzles closer to Castiel’s chest, his breath warm against his skin.

”I do.” 

Dean’s stomach is still a little sticky with come, Castiel must have missed a spot when he hastily cleaned them off. 

”Why didn’t you- when you talked to that journalist on the phone, you said-”

”It doesn’t matter what the press think. I’m just trying to keep them away.” 

Not the answer Castiel wanted, but he doesn’t know how to tell Dean that-

”You don’t want to be on the front of every damn magazine, trust me. It’s better this way.” 

Castiel wants to say something more, but then Dean starts kissing him again and the thought drifts away.

 

_December_

Things get worse when Claire sends him a link to youtube. Castiel opens the video, thinking that it will be yet another one of a shirtless Dean (she has sent him quite a lot of those, and he’s asked her to stop even though he secretly doesn’t mind). What he finds instead is an interview, Dean’s pretty face filling the screen and Castiel just knows that this is a recent video, because of the little scar on his forehead that he got from the car crash, and the way he holds his left arm close to his body. 

” _So, Dean. Four months since the accident, any news on the tour? How are you doing?”_

_”The plan is to start up again in February. We’ll release the tickets sometime next week.”_

_”And you’re up for it?”_

There’s a bit of rebellion in Dean’s eyes that just makes Castiel smirk. Dean would have gone up on that stage in his wheelchair if Charlie hadn’t threatened to quit if he did. 

_”I know what I’m capable of.”_

The reporter laughs a little and Dean smiles dangerously. 

_”So, I’ve got to ask. Lisa Braeden was seen at your father’s funeral. Are you two…?”_

_”She’s a family friend that’s all.”_

_”So all the single ladies out there don’t have to lose hope?”_

Dean chuckles and winks at the camera.

_”I’m up for anything_ ,” he says. Castiel pauses the video. Then he closes youtube. Locks his phone. Tosses it onto the bed. 

 

When Dean comes home from Benny, Castiel wastes no time to confront him.

”You’re up for _anything_?” 

”Cas-” Dean sighs, struggling a little with his coat. Castiel tugs at the sleeves to help him get it off, then angrily hangs it up in the closet. 

”Maybe you think this is some kind of a joke, but I take this seriously. I-”

_I love you_

”I care about you, a lot, and I don’t want to lose you.”

”It’s just a stupid interview!” Dean bites back, kicking his shoes off. ”It means nothing!” 

”Why are you so opposed to telling the press about our relationship?” Castiel says through gritted teeth, actually making Dean deflate a little. He shakes his head and walks past Castiel into the living room. 

”I’m not- _opposed_ to anything-”

”Is it because I’m a man?”

Dean’s eyes turn dark. 

”Don’t-”

”People don’t know, do they? That their rockstar is gay?” 

Dean throws his hands up into the air and Castiel can tell that he wants to leave, that he wants to run from this. 

Maybe he should let him.

”That has nothing to do with this! God!” 

”Then what? Just tell me!” 

Dean slams the door on his way out. 

 

_January_

Dean doesn’t call him, he doesn’t reply to any of his calls, he doesn’t stop by. And Castiel-

He _knows_ that he shouldn’t be pissed at him, but-

But he is so in love with Dean and he’s terrified that the singer doesn’t feel the same way. That his unwillingness to go public with their relationship is a sign that it is about to end.

 

_February_

The band left yesterday, along with Charlie and Kevin and Chuck and the crew. Castiel doesn’t know what to think about anything, he doesn’t know what to do. 

When he comes home from work he absently looks through the mail, and stops as he reaches a thick envelope with familiar handwriting. 

Inside, he finds a ticket to the _Archangel’s Revenge_ -concert in Lawrence. Tonight. 


	13. Angel

”You guys are up in two minutes,” Charlie announces. Dean gives her a thumbs-up and takes a look at his band - Jo, who’s sitting with her eyes closed and drumsticks in hand, Benny, emptying his water bottle, and Balthazar, with an excited grin saved just for Dean. 

”Let’s give ’em hell,” Dean chuckles, and the rest of them cheer in agreement. 

Charlie returns and they head up to the stage.

Balthazar came back with a huge apology and no thoughts about being allowed back in the band, all he wanted was to mend fences. Neither Dean, Jo or Benny are people who hold grudges, so after a long talk and a few beers, Balthazar was officially back in the band. 

Dean warned him that he is still going to talk to the crowd, but this time Balthazar seemed cool with it. Perhaps he figured that being in the band was worth having to listen to Dean talk all the time. 

”Hello Lawrence!” Dean exclaims, and a deafening roar hits him like a wall. They head straight into _Lucifer’s Hands_ , and it sounds damn good. Dean’s voice is still a little out of practice, but by the time he hits the second verse he has gotten the hang of it. He limps a little as he runs around and he still can’t make his fingers cooperate enough to play the guitar, but this is good. 

His dad is dead and gone, Sam is back in California, Cas is-

_Shit_ , dad is dead. He’s not going to call Bobby and complain about the weather anymore. He’s not going to look at the Impala with such fondness that Dean feels guilty for buying her. No more baseball games, no more trying to be a family again. 

Dean falters a little but the crowd is singing perfectly, guiding him back to the present. 

 

The show runs smoothly, Dean is dripping with sweat and he’s having the time of his life. God, he missed this. On the last leg, he couldn’t wait to get back home, to Cas, but now he’s feeling euphoric. And hopefully, Cas is here tonight. If not, well. He can always read the newspapers tomorrow. 

Because Dean has been an asshole since the accident, and he has been pushing Cas away without knowing why, until a few weeks ago when he finally figured it out. 

Pushing him away was Dean’s way of seeing if he would stay. If the exploding love inside his lungs goes both ways. 

In the end, Dean had been the one to run away, because he’s a fucking coward and not equipped to dealing with emotions, but he’s going to do this anyways. 

”Okay, we’re gonna play you a new song. It hasn’t even been recorded yet, but hopefully it’ll show up on the next album. That depends on if you like it or not,” he smirks, and a few people laugh.

Balthazar joins his side, just as Phil from the crew gets two stools for them. They sit down in sync, and Dean raises the microphone to his mouth again, suddenly trembling a little because of what he is about to do. Balthazar winks at him, and that was all he really needed. 

”I wrote this song on some lonely days after the accident. Castiel, if you’re here tonight, this is for you. I love you.” His voice shakes a little as he adds, ”So much.” He can’t stop the smile from spreading as the entire crowd makes an ”awww”-noise. ”Alright, hush. This song is called _Angel_.” 

Balthazar starts playing the beautiful intro, and Dean has to close his eyes from the thousands of phones that light up the arena. 

_Angel, oh oh oh oh_

_Knew you were special from the moment I saw you_

_I saw you, yeah_

_I said angel, oh oh oh oh_

_I feel you're closer every time I call you_

_I call you_

_Cause all I see are wings, I can see your wings_

_But I know what I am and the life I live, yeah, the life I live_

_And even though I sin, maybe we are born to live_

 

After the encore and a song that they hadn’t meant to play at all, the band crash in the green room. Kevin brings beer and food and they are all giddy after the successful show, however Dean’s mind is miles away. 

”Do you think he got the ticket?” he asks for the third time, and Charlie is the only one to give him a sympathetic look. 

”It should have arrived on time,” she replies (also for the third time). Dean sighs unhappily and checks his phone again. 

He is startled to see that he has gotten a text, and immediately pissed that he didn’t hear it. 

**C: Go to the stage**

It’s all Dean needed for a smile to spread on his lips, and without a single word he bolts through the door to the stage. 

And there he is. Standing right where hundreds of fans were only fifteen minutes ago. The last of them are still filing out, but if they can see that someone is on the stage, they most likely won’t think that it is him. 

Cas is wearing his trench coat, that light-brown thing that suits him so well. 

”Hey there, angel,” Dean calls out, jumping down from the stage. There is a fence separating them now, but Cas steps closer. 

”Hello, Dean.”

”I didn’t know if you’d show.”

Cas tilts his head and regards the stage, blue eyes flickering from place to place. 

”At first I didn’t want to. But Claire convinced me.”

”Remind me to thank her for that.” 

He smiles lightly, fondness spreading across his face. 

”Did you really write me a song?” he asks, nose scrunching up a little in amusement. 

”I did,” Dean replies, rolling his eyes because he knows what will come next. 

”You are a goddamn romantic, Dean Winchester.”

”Shut up and kiss me.”

Cas does. And maybe it’s a good thing that there is a fence between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have reached the end! Hooray! Hope you enjoyed this to some extent at least, it started out being really fun to write but jeez, endings are hard.   
> Thank you so much for reading and commenting and leaving kudos, you mean the world to me! xx


End file.
